Medic!
by Xuric
Summary: Everyone needs a healer. It's a shame that putting the heroes and villains back together again isn't as quiet as you'd think. OC, Slice of Life, Non-team focused.
1. Chapter 1

"Spoiler alert; I'm not joining your team."

"Aw, come on beautiful! The team could do with someone with your good looks around here."

A thought and I dial up his pain receptors. He shrieks, muscles spasming. I smirk as I flip his pain back off and continue to heal the second degree burns covering his arms.

Point made, I hum along to the radio as I grab a handful of fries from my lap and shove them in my face. I watch the dead skin shed away, staring at the way the new flesh knits itself into place.

Chuckles from behind me. I can sense the endorphins even before the sound of laughter reaches my ears.

"Seriously, Kay-Eff?" Robin's voice is full of mirth. It's nice to hear him when he's away from Batman and lets himself cut loose. "Thought you learnt the last time you tried this."

Kid Flash's facial muscles contract. His eyes roll in their sockets. I shove another handful of fries in my mouth as he moans, "Come _on_! Dude, we only have Miss Martian at the moment and I am _not_ into sharing. I'm just thinking of the rest of you, really."

It takes a considerable amount of willpower not to make his arm fall off. If that was something I could do. What the fuck powers, give me _something_.

Instead I just tighten my grip on his arm and watch the way his veins flatten under the pressure.

"Ooh," Robin's voice is taunting, "now you made her mad."

Another mouthful of fries. I finish healing his arm and take a moment to look at the dermis layers. They seem mostly fine - a few sweat glands filling with bacteria, but he can deal with the upcoming acne.

I slide my glasses down from atop my head and have to blink away the way my head spins as I see skin and faces instead of muscle and soft tissue. The room around me blossoms into focus and I have to try not to flinch at the brightness of the white walls. Still don't know how Batman managed it, but god damn his tech is _amazing_.

I grab the half-eaten burger from my lap and polish it off before I've let go of Kid Flash's wrist. He seems content to let me keep holding onto him, judging by the big grin on his face.

I sigh as I let go of him and toss my burger wrapper into the corner of the medbay. It bounces off the wall and lands nowhere near the trashcan.

"From now on, no going up against giant robots," I chide. "I mean, are you guys all just really that keen for me to see if I can regrow limbs? Don't need you to try and say anything - I saw enough on the news. You've been together all of a hot minute and already I'm getting called to patch you all up."

Being able to admonish children is a gift I'm perfectly willing to abuse. I smile at the way both of them look at the ground and scuff their feet against the floor.

"Indeed," Aqualad's voice echoes from the doorway. I turn to look at him, raising my glasses as I do so. His physiology is so… unique. It's human, yet not at the same time. Oceanic pressures have moved the distances between his bones and his organs. He has _gils_. I'm able to see the way a dual and single circulatory system work at the same time, in the _same body_.

And I'm staring again.

"We were unprepared for Mister Twister," Aqualad continues as he walks into the room. His bare feet slap against the cold, hard tiles. "Cleric is correct in her assessment, though I know she has yet to voice it. We must do more to work cohesively as a team. We are not her only patients - though we would welcome her addition to the team."

"And that's my cue to leave," I say, grabbing my satchel and standing. I toss a fry at Robin as I walk past him and ruffle his hair. "Say hi to BatDad for me." I turn to look at Kid Flash. "One; you're like five years younger than me. Two; without these glasses on, I see everyone's bodies as if they're not wearing skin or clothes. Flesh and skeletons are _not_ sexy. Three, I'm perfectly capable of making parts of your body rot off."

I take the glasses back off and slide them to rest atop my hair. I can see the electrical pulses in Kid Flash's brain as he attempts to quickly think of a way to recover. Aqualad holds the door open for me as I leave. The muscles in his face are stern, almost carved from stone. The hormones his body releases are similar and yet different at the same time.

"I must thank you for taking time out to help us," he says as I walk past, shutting the door behind us both. Not that it does much - I can see sense Robin and Kid Flash in the medbay. If I concentrate hard enough, I'm sure I can even see them through all the inorganic matter.

"No worries," I say, waiting for him to move in front of me. I follow in his path, careful to step exactly where I see the traces of sweat and shed skin cells he leaves on the ground. "You're some of the few people that understand my needs. Though I do wish you'd all start learning to listen when I say I'm not signing up."

"We do," he says, looking forwards. "I do not deny that I personally think we would benefit from your addition, though I understand your reasons for not joining. Our team is in its infancy. With Superboy's origins shrouded in mystery and Miss Martian's unique physiology, it would be helpful to have someone here to understand our own intricacies."

"Kaldur," I say flatly, with such force that he actually stops to turn and look at me. I see the way his eyes rotate in their sockets and do my best not to get distracted by looking at the ways they've adapted to life underwater.

I have to put my glasses back down over my eyes. The rock walls explode into focus. Lights appear above me. I see the solid steel beneath my feet and have to try my best not to trip over as my eyes struggle to focus on everything at once.

"I _heal_. That's what I do. Despite what I said to Mister-Downstairs-Brain in there, I can't reverse the healing process. I can change what hormones your body makes, even alter the quantities. I am _not_ built for being part of a team."

"I understand," he says. And god damn, seeing normally just makes me feel like such a _bitch_ when I'm able to see how _disappointed_ he is at that.

"Staying impartial is what keeps me alive," I tell him. "I can heal myself, but not forever."

"I understand," he says again. I know he's one of the few people that actually does. "But know that there is always a space for you here, amongst friends. Even should you not wish to join us, we would always welcome your company."

At that, I laugh. "Really? Kid Flash alternates between being jealous I eat more than him and trying to tell me how my powers are meant to work according to the rules of science. I need the energy to heal others. Don't understand how it works, don't need to so long as it does. Robin only loosens up when Batman isn't around and as much as he may have helped me, I spend enough time healing _his_ victims for the state."

"Very well then," Kaldur says, " _I_ would appreciate your company, Natasha. Between my duties to Atlantis and my duties here, it is enjoyable to have time to embrace who I am."

I smile. "You're not too bad for a fleshbag. I could do worse, as far as friends go. Can we get donuts?"

He nods. "I have yet to try them, and have always wanted to. That sounds most enjoyable."

"And then afterwards can we joyride in the Batmobile?"

"Of course," he says flatly, shaking his head as he begins to walk away. "Then afterwards we can both reminisce about our freedom from the comfort of a cell in Blackgate."

" _Fine_ ," I say, sighing dramatically. "We can go get Mexican food and you can watch me deepthroat a burrito."

I cackle as he trips over his own feet. Never gets old.


	2. Chapter 2

It's gone three in the morning when I hear a knock at my front door. I'm momentarily confused because one, things like this are never a good sign and two, usually people tend to use the windows or the balcony because apparently common decency is a dying artform.

When I glance at the door and concentrate, I'm surprised enough that it's not someone with half a brain cell trying something stupid - because even with people that can fly and do all sorts of crazy shenanigans, people _still_ think that door to door robbery is a well-paying career choice.

"Well, well, well," I say, smiling as I open the door, "look what the cat dragged in." I don't have to look at her to know the way her facial muscles are deepening as she frowns. I should be looking at her for injuries but I am a bad, selfish, easily bribed person. "Is that pizza?"

"Three of Guiseppe's finest," she says, limping her way past me. She shoves the pizza boxes into my arms and I inhale deeply, practically salivating at the smell of cheese and burnt pepperoni. "Dear God, Tasha," she says as she flicks on a light switch. "This place could use some organisation. How were you even reading in the dark?"

I kick the door shut behind me and follow her into my living room. She makes herself comfortable on my couch - well, as comfortable as three broken ribs, a sprained ankle and what I'm _fairly_ certain is a shattered ulna - and picks up my latest obsession. "Ah," she grunts, staring at the pages. "Braille. Of course." She goes to toss the book and instead freezes in place as she stares at the right hand side of the room. "Tasha. When did you get a _burmese python_?"

I flop down on the couch beside her, dropping the pizza boxes on the coffee table and flick on the tv for some background noise. "Oh, that's Fluffy," I say, glancing over at his vivarium. It takes up the entire side of the room - she must be concussed too if she didn't notice that first. Plus she used the door rather than the roof entrance, which raises more questions.

Fluffy raises his head and I see the way his nostrils flare as he tastes the air. Apparently bored - reptile biochemistry is a _little_ out of my comfort zone - he slithers back into the rock formation that he's claimed as a home.

"Healed one of Penguin's toadies… or it may have been one of Brick's… actually, he may have even just been a merc." I shake my head as I flip open a pizza box and attack. "He gave me Fluffy as a thank you present," I say around burning hot cheese, gasping as I fan air into my mouth. " _Ooh_. Hot. Anyway, yeah, Fluffy came as a 'thank you and please care for him because I nearly died and I want him to be looked after if I die' sorta thing."

Selina's expression would be a mask, were I not able to see the way her cheek muscles were twitching. " _Fluffy_."

"Is that all you're taking from this conversation?" I sigh theatrically as I press a finger to her neck. Instantly the flood of information assaults me. She's tense, not surprising. Scared - now that is. Frustrated. Score must have gone badly.

"Oh come on, kitten," she purrs. I see the way her pain receptors flare as she removes a glove, but she gives no visible cue that she's in pain. "It's just us girls, pizza and late night news. You can hold my hand."

"And watch the way your body floods with endorphins?" I fold up the crust of the pizza - garlic and cheese stuffed, girl did good - and damn well nearly swallow the thing in one. "I'm going to pass on that one. It makes me nauseous just _thinking_ about it."

"Tease," she says. Her body flares when she coils forwards to grab a pizza box, though it seems to relax the moment she leans back into the couch and rests the box atop her lap. "I should have brought popcorn instead," she says.

I would roll my eyes if I wasn't afraid it would make me see the back of my own skull. "Funnily enough that wouldn't work on me." I grab her wrist and start by dulling her pain. Instantly she almost unfolds into the plush cushions. The news starts droning on about something happening near Santa Prisca involving Bane, but so long as this means I'm not about to deal with a rush of Venom-jacking mooks I'm happy to ignore the news and let it just be white noise. "So, Lina. Dare I ask?"

"Oh don't you start," she says, waving a hand dismissively. She picks up a slice and I stop myself from hissing at her. She did bring three of them after all. "Green Arrow's old sidekick was there. I, selfless individual that I am, gave up my score when he got himself involved in a shootout that a bow just wasn't enough to measure up with. I mean _honestly_ , if you're going to go hard, at least have the stamina to keep up."

Her ulna gets my attention first - and just getting her body to line it back up leaves me feeling like I haven't eaten in days. I fold two slices of pizza like a sandwich and take a large bite. "Oh and of course, you're more than willing to teach a younger man a thing or two."

That gets a smile out of her. "You're getting better. Hard to think you couldn't understand the concept of flirting when we first met. One day we'll even make a passing human out of you."

"Doubt that," I say around a mouthful of cheese. "I'd have to have some interest other than using it to troll people. So did you dump and dash, or did you at least stop to clean up the mess you made first?"

"Oh, look at you, I feel so proud." It's amusing to watch the way she folds a slice of pizza in her hand before just nibbling daintily at the end of it. "No, I'm afraid he didn't even wait until the bodies were cold."

I freeze, caught in the motions of reaching for another slice of pizza.

" _Kidding_ ," Lina sighs. "No one died - well, at least not there, whilst I was there. I knocked them out - as non-woundingly as possible, don't worry. I wouldn't want to create more work for you."

"Of _course_ not, because if I was helping them you wouldn't be able to turn up at my door at stupid o'clock in the morning."

" _Exactly_. I'm just looking out for number one, really."

"You're full of shit." I lift her arm to make sure that the bone has healed correctly and get her to flex, move and do the worm. The latter gets a raised eyebrow, but she still waves her arm through the air anyway.

Oh the things you can make people do under the guise that you're checking to make sure they're healed correctly. When her ribs are healed I should make her do the robot.

"Arm's healed, so's your concussion by the way - did that without even really paying attention to it. I heal them that much I must just do it on muscle memory now." I stare at the empty pizza box and almost want to cry at the fact that all the pizza's gone. Then I remember there's another two waiting for me and happily crack open the second, trying - and failing - to contain my squeal when I realise this one has a barbecue sauce base.

"Shirt off," I say around a mouthful of food, "or whatever it is you're wearing." I make a gesture for her to stand up and lift the clothing out of the way.

"Why is it that everytime I come here I end up half naked and with your hands on my body?"

"Because you're a poor excuse for a thief." Her muscles contract and spasm as she unzips the jacket and I'm able to tell a bit better where she's overexerted herself. I place my hand against her side and start healing the worst of her damage. Instantly I can see that her lungs are able to inflate just that little bit better, and while I'm here, I get her body to work double time at clearing out the side effects of something she either got dosed with or took. Don't quite recognise the compound and I know she's not one for anything other than a glass of wine, which means one of the goons must have been using poisoned weapons or something similar.

"So," she says conversationally, "how are the plans for your business meeting going?"

"Good," I say, "could be better, but going well considering that I'm fundamentally going to be demanding a lot. I've got two weeks to try and make sure I know what I'm talking about."

"And to decide what you're wearing," she says. At my silence, I can feel the horror coming off her. "Honey, _no_. You are many things, but able to dress yourself is not one of them."

I would argue that, but given that I can't actually see what I'm wearing unless I have the WayneTech glasses on, she may be right. That and I never really bothered learning fashion because does it really matter? So long as I'm covered it's all good.

"Sweetie," she says, in that caring but condescending tone, "you're not allowed to be in charge of your own wardrobe for this. We can do it after brunch next week!" Two of the ribs are healed now, and half of the second pizza has vanished. It can't be just me. My apartment has to be haunted. It's _Gotham_. It would totally make sense.

"Invite Jade along too, she has a better eye for shopping on a budget than I do."

"You sure that will end well? You two usually end up fighting like two cats in heat."

" _Foreplay_ , darling. It's fun to get each other riled up. Sometimes we fight. Sometimes we fuck. Whatever we do, it's always fun."

The pizza is gone. My hopes and dreams for a long lasting relationship with it wither and die.

"Ribs are healed," I say, scooting away as I grab the third and final box. "Need to check they're healed right. Get up, do some stretches. Do the robot. And don't look at me like that - I can see your facial muscles cramping before you've even finished the thought of glaring at me. It's a documented medical procedure. Moving your body whilst keeping your chest firmly in place. Tests to make sure they're able to withstand the pressure."

Oh glorious days she's _actually_ doing it! I have to take a quick bite to stop myself from laughing. Anyone will believe something if you sound confident enough when you say it. She taught me that. It just makes it that much better that I'm using her own teachings against her.

"Ribs look good," I say. I can tell that she knows I'm bullshitting, but she doesn't have enough medical knowledge to call me out on it. "Put your top back on and give me your leg. I'll do your ankle and then you're free to go."

She collapses on the other side of the couch, dropping her legs unceremoniously in my lap. "You know," she says conversationally, her head pointed towards the television, "when I've dealt with Bane previously he's always been a lot more intelligent than he's let on. I doubt he'd have been captured so easily without there being some plan that benefits him further down the line."

For a moment I'm confused, then I realise she's talking about something on the news. Honestly, I've tuned it out by now because if I had to guess, the fact that she found Speedy in a museum in Gotham means that Robin was probably out of town, which in all likelihood means him and the Junior Justice League probably had something to do with whatever the news is talking about.

"Maybe," I say, not really paying attention. The ankle is the easiest fix really, and by the time she's mentioned something about jewels and some sort of robbery gone wrong - because really, when do they ever go right? - I've sorted it and the inflammation.

"All done," I say as I pick up her legs by the ankles. "Keep an eye out on the goons next time. I think one of them laced their weapon with something." I drop her legs onto the couch and find my book nestled under the coffee table. She yawns and I smack her on the thigh with my book. "Hey! What have I told you about coming here to be healed and then fall asleep?"

"Oh come off it darling, you love the company. Don't try to deny it." She stretches like a cat and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she meowed as she does it. "Besides, you don't sleep and you don't fuck. Your bed may as well get some _proper_ use out of it."

"Taint my bed and I will cut you."

She laughs as she stands and hugs my shoulders from behind. "I wouldn't dare. The spare room is much more my style anyway."

"That's because it's filled with bribes from villains like you!" I shout as she saunters out of the room. There's no point getting frustrated because despite her faults, she does have her good qualities.

Sometimes.

I think.

"And you're taking me to iHop in the morning!"

She groans. "Honestly Tasha, you eat like a highschool footballer."

I smile as I hear the door to my spare room shut. A moment later the en-suite bath taps start running and were I a betting woman, I would place all my money on her falling asleep in the bath in about five minute's time.

"Besides, I totally use my bed for proper things," I mutter as I open my book and try to find the page I was on. "Pillow forts are _clearly_ the best use for a bed."


	3. Chapter 3

My heart is racing a mile a minute. There are so many ways that this can go wrong, the most obvious of which is me leaving entering the room for too long and letting everyone _literally_ go for each others' throats.

Arguably could be for the benefit of the world.

But today is about how I can improve the world, so they can all at least play nice now, give me what I want and then do the world another favour tomorrow.

I step through the large, white wooden doors to the hotel's conference room and realise just what a bad idea this is.

Six people sit around the large table in the centre of the room. I make my way towards the head of the table and activate the projector at the front, steadfastedly ignoring all of them.

I go to play with the hem of my blouse and stop myself. The one thing both Selina and Jade both made certain to hammer into me was that I need to keep any nervous body language is under control.

I take a breath as my powerpoint loads. Faking confidence that I certainly don't feel, I turn around to my boardroom of wealthy victims.

"So," I say, "altruism aside, I know that most people would only entertain this meeting out of some perceived notion that they owe me favours."

Not the best business pitch but hey, I deal with disease and dismemberment, not investments and business opportunities.

I force the smile onto my face. Bruce Wayne. Oswald Cobblepot. Carmine Falcone. Isabel Rochev. Annabelle Li. Gotham's five most influential business owners and general endless pools of money.

And of course, the smug, self-righteous snake that is Lex Luthor.

"You all know me. You know I'm not one for big speeches and board meetings." I advance the slide. It's filled with photographs of me taken by the press, healing different people from all walks of life. There's one from when a Wayne fundraising gala got gatecrashed. One from Penguin's Ice Lounge. I've made sure to include photographs that tie me to all of them.

"I heal people," I say to them, advancing to a slide filled with headlines about my work. "But I'm just one person."

At Selina's urging, I remembered to cover up the WayneTech logo on my glasses with a quick application of black nail varnish. I do my best not to reach up and scratch at it simply because I know it's there.

"So this is where all of you come in," I say. "I heal others, but what happens when I get sick? What happens when someone decides that they're bored of honouring the fact that I'm neutral and decides taking out the healer is worth the resulting price on their head?"

"Only gotta worry 'bout the clown for that," Cobblepot mutters into what I'm certain is a glass of whiskey. Not sure how he got hold of that, but he must know someone in the staff. "That twisted fucker is the only nutjob batshit enough to think of something like that."

"Well," I say, unable to fight the smile on my face, "I did invite him to today's meeting."

The looks on their faces are priceless.

"Explain," Rochev demands in a tone that brokers no argument. She's a small woman, possibly Russian descent, brown hair, lots of scar tissue and damage that I'm associating with self-torture and learning a lot of martial arts in some brutal, no pity for the weak sort of situation.

"The Joker has the habit of taking offence to the slightest of notions," I say, as diplomatically as I can manage. "He's killed quite a few gang leaders because they held their own meetings and he wasn't invited.

"So I sent him an invitation," I say with a shrug. "Said that his presence wasn't required, but his intellectual input-" I ignore the way Luthor poorly disguises a laugh - "would be appreciated."

Bruce tilts his head ever so slightly, as if he agrees with the sentiment.

"And I assume he took this news well?" Li asks. "He may not be here today but there have been less of his usual antics affecting our streets."

I don't know much about her - what I have been able to find out seems fabricated, but I'm running with the assumption that she's either working for the Chinese government as a double agent to take down the Triad operations in and around Gotham, or vice versa.

Regardless, she has strong ties to pharmaceutical companies and more personally, I've healed her from all sorts of broken bones and nasty injuries without ever asking why.

I make a face. "He uh… returned his declination in the form of one of his goons blowing up a PO box I'd arranged for well outside the city limits and away from any civilians."

"Well insane as he may be, at least he is Gotham," Falcone sneers, shooting a not-subtle glance at Luthor. "What business does the cue-ball hold here? This is a meeting for Gotham's future."

"This is for everyone's future," I say. Really wish I could make people's mouths just permanently shut sometimes. "It's easiest to set up here because I'm already familiarised and established here. And whether you like it or not, Mr. Luthor invests heavily in almost every medical college in the States. It would be remiss to not include him."

"And I thank you for including me in these discussions," he says smoothly. His voice is like velvet - smooth, plush and mind-bogglingly popular. It mostly makes my skin crawl. "Please, continue."

"Right," I say, nodding quickly. I glance at Bruce - he hasn't said anything yet. His body is beginning to bruise from whatever he's done recently - the news said something about a robot called Amazo, which means there's yet another lunatic designing toys of mass destruction.

"As I was saying: I'm just one person. We need to plan for the future." I forward onto my next side. The image of a hospital overflowing with patients, with tired staff barely able to stay away to treat those in need.

"What I'm proposing is to have a new medical college, here in Gotham. Use it to train all medical professionals. Doctors, nurses, surgeons, everyone. I speak from experience when I say that when people pay vets to remove bullet wounds, they do not have the expertise to do the best job possible."

"And what makes your medical school a worthwhile investment?" Rochev again. Her face hasn't cracked all meeting. "If I wanted to invest money in a medical hospital, I could choose any that are established and actually have some weight to their name."

"Because," I say, stressing the one word, "I'm not planning this just for the educated who can parrot textbooks back at an examiner. From healing people and working with everyone in different walks of life, I know that there are people out there acting as surgeons that have no formal qualifications.

"Lots of mob doctors get stuck working in the criminal underworld because it's the only option they have. Once they have a criminal record, they'll never get hired again." I click onto the next slide, which is a picture of prisoners helping to treat wounded prison guards in one of the latest riots in Blackgate.

"I don't want this to be another school where only the elite and wealthy get access to," I say. "This is for everyone. No medical insurance, no problem. Healing is a right, not a privilege."

I take a breath and move onto the next slide. Numbers and graphs, all displaying things that I know are way over my head. "Now, this is where all of you come in. I'm not a businesswoman. I mend bones and heal wounds. I need investments and people that know what they're doing. In time I plan to have my own selected staff, people that I know aren't in the pockets of known criminals or going to be selling patient secrets to anyone.

"Heroes and villains need healing as much as anyone else sometimes." I flick the slide onto the next one, a photograph of Superman taken after his clothing had been ripped and torn by bullet wounds.

I see the way Lex's forehead twitches. We all know he was behind it, but there's no real proof to link him to the crime. He's smart, but he wants recognition. It'll be his downfall in time, but for now, I just need him for his money.

"So I need someone to help establish pharmaceutical links for drugs for patients. I'll heal the worst of cases, but everything else can be done by trained professionals. And when this is successful, we can roll out another in another city, like Metropolis, Bludhaven or Star City."

"Now see here," Cobblepot starts, and I see the way everyone resists the urge to roll their eyes, "what exactly makes this such a good thing? Way I see it, you're just spoutin' the same old shit as every other bugger there is, only you're dressing it up with fancier words. You want us to throw big bucks at this place, heal people for free and for what? I can't see any benefit for any of us."

All I had to do was wait for someone to ask the question.

"Because anyone who shows a willingness to learn or the skills to help will be taught and eventually get a recognised qualification through affiliated colleges," I say, glancing quickly to Luthor. He nods and though I can see the way Rochev is doing the math and Li is weighing up her options, the other two villains seem unconvinced.

"And of course, because it'll be healing anyone, hero or villain, the police and courts won't be able to obtain any patient information."

That certainly gets their attention.

 **-.-.-**

I smile to myself as I leave the hotel, tipping the serving staff handsomely. That couldn't have gone better if I'd dreamed about it. All of them signed on the dotted line. All I need to do is find the right location, get the right forms signed and I'll actually be on my way to getting somewhere for people to actually come for safety.

I step out into the street and sigh at the way the rain is pelting down from the heavens. My hair does not do well with the rain. Or humidity. Or anything outside of its normal treatment regime.

Thankfully I'm saved when the tall, broad gentlemen with the scowl and an umbrella big enough for a circus troupe walks up to my side.

"Miss Hunter."

"Mister Wayne," I say, matching his seriousness. His lips quirk upwards for just a moment, but it's the only reaction I get.

"Would you care for a ride? I'm sure you'd prefer not to suffer in the rain."

"Delighted to," I say, curtsying a little. I glance forwards and should have guessed that his limo was already outside - though I'm surprised that it doesn't have the Bat logo on the front, if truth be told.

"That went rather well," he says as he slides into the back seats beside me. The moment the door is shut his driver starts us on our journey, which confirms my suspicion that he was planning on this.

"It really did," I say, grinning. "I mean, Falcone and Cobblepot basically signed on the dotted line the moment I all but said their goons and them would be healed without any repercussions.

"Barring any known murderers, rapists or pedophiles," I add on. "If any patients are linked to any of those three crimes then their rights to confidentiality are waved immediately but well… if they didn't read the contract before they signed then that's just their problem now, isn't it?"

"That's a dangerous game to play," he warns me.

I turn to the side and stare out of the window, watching the way rain runs down the side of the window. "I'm used to danger," I say quietly.

Bruce grunts in answer to that. I remain quiet, enjoying the novelty of actually being able to see the world the way it's meant to be seen.

"Those you care about could be in danger too," he warns. "I know that your parents are no longer with us."

Not an orphan.

But perhaps an easily explanation that the truth.

"They're not dead," I say, "but they did move back to Ghana. Not coming back anytime soon though."

"I… see." I can tell he wants to ask more questions. He doesn't.

Which probably just means he'll be searching for answers later.

Doubt the League of Shadow's newly established African sanctuary is that easy to discover. But hey if he wants to try, I'll be there to say 'I told you so' as I untie his body from the different shapes they'll have twisted him into.

"I'm aware of your friendship with Catwoman and Cheshire. They may be in danger too, as well as any other family you may have."

"No other family," I say. Not any that I'm about to explain that to Bruce.  
 _  
'Oh hey Batman, meet Ra's, my godfather. You two know each other, don't you?'_

Probably won't be sharing the details of my birth anytime soon either.

"Anyway, I worked up an appetite in that meeting." I give him the best wounded puppy eyes I can manage. "Robin says that you're always eating lobster thermidor. I've never tried it."

"I suppose Alfred will be happy to make an extra portion." He turns to me and I swear it's like I know he's plotting something even before he opens his mouth. "Though in return I'd like to know how long Robin's been designing _and selling_ his own range of Lego Batman figures."

I try and fail to contain the laugh that erupts from my stomach. "Only if you're going to use it for parental blackmail purposes."

His smirk tells me everything I need to know.


	4. Chapter 4

"Pickles are truly amazing, aren't they?"

Lois gives me a _very_ flat look over the top of her coffee. I'm grinning as I pluck another one from the box and throw it into the back of my throat. I know they're rehydrated, probably mass-produced and bathed in all manner of chemicals, but _damn_ do they taste good.

She's got her back to the wall, having chose a corner to sit in. She wants to see the crowd, know who's coming in and out. I know enough stories to explain her behaviour - often the target of kidnappings and ransoms. Honestly, most other people would bow out and succumb to the pressure. Gotta admit, the fact that she's still fighting to uncover the truth despite that, and no knowledge of how to defend herself - and _what_ is up with that, because surely if you're being targeted you'd at least learn how to kick _some_ ass - is pretty impressive.

Even if she's a uncultured swine who doesn't appreciate the good, greasy appeal of McDonald's.

"You're dodging the question, Cleric," she accuses. Despite everyone else around us staring at an electronic screen, she's old-school. Pen and paper are held in her hands, with an impressive collection of worn post-it's sticking out from between the notepad. "You've been seen with both heroes and villains and now there's talk of you receiving funding for this programme of yours from people with very… questionable ties. Are you sure this is wise?"

"Do you want the sarcastic response, or the _incredibly_ sarcastic response?"

"Just the truth, 'Tasha."

I sigh as I lean back into my chair and eat another pickle. She'd already given me a _look_ for saying that I was pregnant and craving pickles so I could order a whole box of them. I chew through a second, and a third as I think about what to say. Jade and Selina had warned me that this was part of the deal I'd be making. Hell, even Bruce had offered coaching advice on how to react appropriately with all of this.

"Okay, so, here's the thing," I say, "I have no business skills. I have no formal medical qualifications. I have no authority to import pharmaceuticals and no licence allowing me to hand them out. My healing, it's a power. For this venture to succeed, I need to draw on those that actually have the real world skills and expertise.

"Just because someone may have ties to certain parties doesn't mean I should exclude them based on that. The right to be healed and be taken care of is just that - a _human right_. I've heard about the comments about this and honestly, so goddamn what if I'm offering this to everyone? Lots of people fall into crime because they have no other options. Once they start on that path, climbing back up to the lawful side isn't easy. If people are going to judge, then they should also do something. It's easy to sit in our glass mansions and cast aspersions on others, but if we're not willing to help another person then really, how are we to throw moral judgement around?"

"You feel strongly about this, don't you?" she asks, managing to look at me as she continues writing. I could never do anything like that. There's only one logical explanation as to how she's capable of multitasking in such a way.

She's a witch.

Or has practiced this skill, but I prefer of her cackling over a steaming cauldron, laughing maniacally as it turns green and bubbles ominously.

"Lois, look," I say, leaning on my elbows, "no matter what I do, people tell me I'm doing it wrong. I heal everyone - people complain that I should only heal heroes. I charge people for it - I'm doing that wrong, I should heal heroes for free and charge anyone who's not running round in spandex and saving the day. I don't pick a side - apparently I should pick one or the other.

"The thing all of these have in common is that they come from people that have never had to rely on me to help. I'm here in Metropolis because I just finished a tour of the hospitals, healing those that otherwise would have died or spent weeks in recovery. Tomorrow I'm leaving for Chicago. Three days after that I'm moving on again.

"Ultimately, I'm just one person. I heal both sides because then that way, I'm known as a neutral party. People can come to me for help knowing that there isn't going to be fallout from either side of the law. But I'm aware that this truce isn't ironclad. One day someone may decide that taking out the healer is worth having the villains out for their blood and heroes seeking justice. This medical school that people are so hyped up about? That's a contingency to make sure that not everything goes to shit if I'm suddenly not around anymore."

"Practical," she comments, "and yet, it's almost like you expect not to be around one day."

I shrug as I lean back in my chair and take a long sip of the banana milkshake. "I could walk out of here and get hit by a bus. Unfriendly aliens could visit and attack. Hell, there could be another world war and I am _not_ immune to an atomic bomb. You know it yourself - every day we choose to face the danger, because we know that someone has to. Why do you throw yourself in danger's way when someone else could handle the story?"

"Because the story needs telling," she says. I see the way she's twirling the pen between her fingers and know the bait has been taken. "Because if I don't tell it, someone else may be hurt looking."

"Or you're just a control freak that wants to make sure everything is done your way." I smile at the sharp look she gives me and shrug innocently. "Intentions and events can be spun to look good or bad with just a few key words."

"I'm aware of that," she says, "but that doesn't mean that what you say is correct."

"And now you see things my way." I slap my milkshake back down on the table and shoot finger-guns at her. "But do we really need to get into another debate about morals, perspective and the general way information can be manipulated?"

"No," she admits. She places her notepad back down on the table, laughing to herself as she takes another sip of her coffee. "So, between friends?"

"My answer would be no different, you know that," I say. She nods, as if content that the information has been confirmed. "I can't be everywhere at once, Lois. If I choose to go to hospital A, people may die in hospital B that I could have saved. But if I went to B instead of A, then the same thing could be said."

"I know," she says with a sigh. "Believe me, I know. People express a lot of opinions about how Superman should be doing things. I think the problem is that when we consider how to solve problems using a person's abilities, we forget that the person involved is just that - another living, sentient being with needs and desires of their own. Superman gets pushed, and pushed, and then pushed even _more_ and he just… accepts it. Sometimes I wonder if people realised that he could quite easily just down tools and refuse to help, leave our planet and be done with it, citing our continual demands as his reason. Honestly, I don't think I could even blame him.

"Have you ever thought about it?" she asks. Her tone lacks the usual confidence it does when she's asking questions as a reporter. This is Lois, stripped emotionally bare, worried about the future.

"Of course," I say, maybe a little bit too flippantly. "Sometimes multiple times a day. Like yesterday, when that robot started attacking and copying the League's powers? My first thought when I heard about it was just, 'there go my plans'. But ultimately, we chose this life because we're not selfish, despite wanting to be so occasionally."

Lois sighs as she finishes off her coffee. "Sometimes I really feel like I need to talk to you, to bring me back down to reality. Then there's times like today, where I'm left with this weird mixture of inspiration and unease."

"It's a gift."


	5. Chapter 5

"Honestly, I can't believe my luck! First I get kidnapped, next I'm made to create something that should be winning me awards and grants, not just being used for such _mundane_ purposes and now to top it all off, I've been left being looked after by the _healer_!"

"There's this wonderful thing called _gratitude_. You should try it sometime."

"Well," she says, staring down at me from her computer, "you should try paying more attention to our surroundings. _You_ are the one here to guard _me_ , after all."

I push myself up from the floor and toss my cushion back at the couch. "Well _you_ have just eaten all of _my_ ice cream, so maybe I'm just too hungry to concentrate now."

"Oh _please_ ," she says, waving a dismissive hand at me. "I've seen you, always claiming that you use the energy from food to fuel your abilities. Conservation of energy doesn't work like that! To regrow that much biological material you'd be eating the equivalent of an _elephant_ each time you heal someone."

"Ah yes, of _course_ , how could I have ever been so wrong about _my own abilities_. Please, oh great, wise lady," I say, throwing in a revering bow for good measure, "please tell me how my abilities work."

"It's obviously the work of highly advanced nanite technology."

" _Right_ ," I say with a roll of my eyes. She's missing out on sarcasm _and_ reality. Great combination. I ignore her in favour of retreating into the kitchen and starting up my coffee machine. May not need the caffeine, but I like the taste and well, it's not like-

"Oh, if you're making coffee, I'll have a skinny latte with soy milk!"

"Do I _look_ like a Starbucks to you?" _Honestly_. I shake my head as I reach into the cupboards and try to retrieve _something_ from the dusty depths. She can deal with stale coffee and like it.

I really hope that I don't come across like this to everyone else.

She falls quiet and I'm left listening to the sound of her keyboard keys clacking away underneath her fingers. I lift up my glasses and glance in her direction, content to see just her sat there. I never really appreciated the quiet of my apartment until I had this particular house guest.

Honestly, Batman, Robin, Aqualad and fuck it, the _whole goddamn League_ owe me big time for this. I even had to move Fluffy into my bedroom so that she'd stop with her incessant whining.

Serling's fingers stop hitting the keys. My first thought is that she's got the crazy scientist equivalent of writer's block.

My second thought is that my first thought is stupid.

I slide a kitchen knife up my sleeve as I walk back into my living room, carrying Serling's coffee mug. There's the faintest hint of a whimper.

Sure enough when I'm back, Serling's lost all colour to her face, she's crying silently and there's a _very_ sharp dagger pointed to her neck.

The woman glances at me as I walk into the room. Her face is hidden by an intricate weave of fabric and beads that leaves it impossible to tell where her clothing ends and the white skull painted over her face begins.

Serling, still whimpering, only seems to grow even paler when instead of leaping to her defences, I just take a seat on the couch opposite them.

I smile as I take a drink of Serling's coffee. Surprisingly not bland. "Hey Mom. Nice of you to come visit."

It's at that point that Serling's eyes roll into the back of her head and she faints.

Mom drops her and lets her fall back into the couch. She moves in such a way that it's almost like she walks _through_ the couch, rather than around it.

Taking a seat beside Serling, my mother leans forwards and just smiles as she continues to flip the dagger into the air, alternating the hands she catches it with.

"Really, if you're going to drop in and visit, can you _not_ threaten my guests?"

She responds by throwing the dagger at me.

I snatch the knife from my sleeve and _slice_ the air. The dagger clatters away with a loud _clang_. Mom is already leaping at me, snarling, teeth bared.

I roll up and over the couch, reaching underneath and pulling free the _Nguni_. I slide my arm into it and roll across the floor, just as she lands fist-first where I just was.

As I bounce back up to my feet and fall into a familiar stance, leading with the shield, I see the way her eyes soften. "You still use it."

"Of course. Didn't spend all those years training with Nana just to let the tradition die."

Mom drops out of her fighting stance and the moment I relax, moves forwards to sweep me up in a hug. "It's good to see you, my daughter. It's been too long."

"Yeah, I've missed being ambushed in my apartment by relatives." I laugh as I hug her back, taking comfort in the familiar myriad of smells about her person. Cloves and cacao, mixed with something that reminds me of cane toads. The shield is pressed between us awkwardly, but I find I don't really care. "Though honestly, most people don't tend to attack first just to make sure their daughter isn't a doppelganger."

"You can never be too certain." She releases me and gestures to Serling's unconscious form. "Especially with things like _this_ ," she moves her hand up and down before swiping the air. " _Pah_! She is lucky I didn't kill her already. You are lucky I didn't kill her."

"Really, Mom?" I roll my eyes at her. "She got left with me because as far as the League's concerned, I'm neutral territory. Other than you, Papa and my lovely godfather, there aren't many even in the League who would attack me." I replace the shield back beneath the couch and press a hand gently to Serling's temple. Increased melatonin should help keep her asleep for a little bit longer.

"Speaking of Papa, is he on the roof? Shall I make him tea too, or is he going to skulk out there like a statue waiting for you to emerge with her?"

Mom smiles. "He's coming."

"Alright, I'll leave the window unlocked so he doesn't feel the need to smash through that." I take a second look at her and see the weaves of red and pink braided into her hair. It reaches down to her shoulders, though her left side is shaved, displaying the golden piercings in her ear. "Red and pink look good on you, by the way."

Her mouth drops open as she looks at me. She tries to speak wordlessly. Nothing happens.

"You… you can _see_?"

She's hugging me before I've even processed that she's moved across the room. Her hands are on my face, squeezing my cheeks. She's crying, I'm crying and she's almost wailing as she moves her shaking hands to guide mine over her hair, like she used to when I was little.

"Red," I say as she has my fingers brush the red braids.

She sobs as she grabs me, pulls me close and begins to cry into my shoulder. I hug her back as tightly as I can.

"You can see," she whispers to herself, again and again. "Oh my sweet baby!"

We're both crying, screeching, practically, and it only gets broken when I hear the window open and a familiar sound of Papa's throat being cleared.

"If you're both crying because one of you just fatally wounded the other, I'll give the order to open the Lazarus pit."

"Oh Stephen," Mom says, moving her hands back to my cheeks, "she can see."

It's at that point that Papa joins in with our happy crying.


	6. Chapter 6

"You know that we came here with a job to do, don't you?"

I nod as I consider the notion. Papa may have been kind enough to put Serling in the guest bed, and not run out of the window with her - I confirmed that by checking up on her without my glasses on. The bone structure, nerves and chemical imbalances in her system matched.

I stretch as I get up from my dining table and begin cleaning away the bowls. Mom was quietly impressed by my jollof rice, which I consider a win, even if her only visible acknowledgement was a slight incline of the head and a roll of her bottom lip.

"I'm aware," I say. Papa nods, content with that as an answer, whilst I'm able to see the way Mom's neurons are firing rapidly. I slide my glasses back down over my nose, blinking at the sudden appearance of a real, actual world, rather than a blackness broken only by walking suits of skeletons and meat. "I don't think she'll cope too well," I say as I start loading the dishwasher.

"Her?" Mom snorts. "I have seen trained murderers who lack her capabilities for verbal assassinations."

"And that's why…" Inspiration strikes me. Can't believe I never thought about it before, but _damn_ is it a brilliant solution. I mean, personally I give no shits as to who Serling goes to. Sometimes being neutral means being outwardly a bitch but hey, she'll be equally as beneficial and disastrous for both sides.

"I think I have an idea that might benefit all of us," I say, smiling. I gesture for them to follow me to my bedroom. My braillewriter is on my desk, and apparently I forgot to lock Fluffy's cage, because I now have a burmese python coiled up on my bed giving us the stink-eye.

"You finally introduce us to what you're willing to share a bed with, and it's a snake," Papa comments.

"I thought if anyone it would be Jade," Mom says. "You both looked so cute together when you were training!"

So _that's_ what full-body repulsion feels like.

I have to shake off the horrible sensation of spiders crawling down my back and gesture for them both to stand as I take a seat at my desk. They're both smiling and I don't need to look at them to know how funny they find this.

"Well when I find someone capable of stirring any attraction, I'll let you guys know. Until then I'm happy with pizza and reality tv."

"Honestly," Mom says as I load paper into my braillewriter. "When Talia said she had found a way to placate the masses, that was the _last_ thing anyone thought of."

I have so many questions that I'm afraid to know the answers for.

So instead I just crack my knuckles and begin typing the start of my brilliant idea. "So, I've called you both into my office today for one simple reason: we're going to kill Serling Roquette."  
 **  
-x-x-x-**

 _"_ _This is Vicki Vale, reporting to you live outside GCPD headquarters, where we've learnt that Victor Zsasz, known serial killer, is purported to have confessed to the murder of missing employee of Royal University, Serling Roquette._

 _"Whilst we're uncertain as to how her life was tragically cut short, we do know that this is creating fast tensions between the leaders of the potential City Restoration Project between Star City and Gotham, Oliver Queen of Queen Industries and Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises."_

I mute the television, unable to wipe the smile off my face. Sat on the other side of my desk, in my _actual_ office, is a certain sour-faced scientist.

"Honestly, do you know how _much_ work I had to do to earn my doctorate and get where I am by the age of _twenty-two_?" She's pouting as she crosses her arms and leans back into the black pleather armchair. "I make one little, teeny tiny _potentially_ dangerous invention - under _duress_ , need I remind you - and suddenly I'm just a victim. A _victim_!" She throws her arms up in the air as she stands and begins pacing. "Do you know how insulting that is? _Victor Zsasz_? You couldn't have faked my death with something a little bit more noteworthy?"

"Well, we could have had you fall afoul of the Riddler, but that would just cause him to get all cranky about how he'd been blamed for something he hadn't done, and how we weren't paying enough attention to the things he had done. And honestly, that boy is _dull_. Besides, this way you're just another name on a list, so people are less likely to be looking for you alive and well."

"Well, my point still stands!" she declares, going so far as to glare at me. "And ginger? Did you have to dye my hair _ginger_?"

"They're an endangered species," I say. "And I hear that heroes love redheads, so maybe Red Arrow will be smitten with you if he ever drops by again."

"I'd much rather Green Arrow," she mutters, just loudly enough for me to hear. As if realising she's said that out loud, she clears her throat and looks around abruptly. "And honestly, _Zoey_. I knew a Zoey in middle school. She was a bitch."

"Well, the name's apt then," I say, smiling wide enough to flash teeth. "Besides, your new identity is already processed. Passport, work history, education. All of it under the name of Zoey Abeni."

She takes the manilla folder I offer her and flips through it quickly. " _Yale_? I'll have you know that I had an open offer from Nanyang Technological University. That would be more believable."

" _Zoey_ ," I say, trying my best not to flip the table. "If we were to put you as going to the highest ranking university for nanotechnology, that would create waves. The point about assuming a new identity is doing so in a way that _doesn't_ draw attention."

She sighs, switching off my television as she walks past it and idly lifting a leaf on the mini potted palm tree I have growing. "So when I to begin my indentured servitude?"

I take a very, _very_ deep breath to calm myself. She's just reacting the normal way anyone adjusting to having their life being pulled out from under them would.

She's also a bitch, which doesn't help.

"You're free to leave at any time, using those documents I've given you." I gesture towards the folder. "Bank account's already set up - there's the five grand you had in your account, plus another forty donated as a means to help you get established, should you decide to move on." It's petty, but I do enjoy the way she looks like something slimy just touched her as she tries to thank me. I get up from my desk and gesture towards the office door.

I open it and walk out into the metal infrastructure that's still in the process of being built. "This used to be the old Monarch Playing Cards factory," I tell her. "It got abandoned when the Joker decided to take over ACE chemicals next door. He's moved on now," I say, quickly, feeling the way her fear spikes. I look over the railings and see the workers bringing in the second MRI machine. "And we've taken over that factory too. This is all going to be a giant teaching hospital, but of course there's always more that can be added in." Our footsteps echo. I can see bullet holes in the walls and make a mental note not to walk around without my glasses on. The last thing I need to find out is if I can see dead, decaying gray matter.

"Anyway, you were wrong about my powers, but it got me thinking. How easy would it be to heal based on nanite technology?"

Zoey makes a smug sound. "I just created a swarm of nanites able to absorb and strip machines of data, on my own, with no help and a literal gun to my head. Medical nanites would take about three times that, at a minimum."

"So in six weeks time, you'll have enough ideas to take to the board of directors?"

She actually trips over her own feet - serves her right for wearing six inch purple heels. "I _what_?"

"You didn't think I'd fake your death and not think of a job offer for you?" I'm smiling as I lean my elbows on the railings and look down at the workers several floors below. The rooms are beginning to take shape - it almost reminds me of that one time Selina came over and spent an entire weekend playing The Sims. "Job's there if you want it. Head of nanite technology for medical research. Of course, we'll need appropriate medical knowledge to work alongside you, but if you don't want it, I suppose we could always search out someone like Ted Kord…"

"You are joking, right? That man couldn't invent his way out of a paper bag." She rolls her eyes, but I can see the way that she's considering it. "And this place…?"

"It's safe," I tell her. "And comes with a salary to match. Enough to buy a nice apartment across the bridge in Gotham County, so if something does go wrong in Gotham, you're away from the drama."

Her mouth is open. I get the mental image of a fly buzzing in and settling. She collects herself, all weakness forgotten and folds her arms. "Well, it's about time that _someone_ recognises my genius for what it is! I'll be here at six tomorrow morning. You can have someone show me where the labs are then. Right now, I'm going to go home, soak in a bubble bath and drink _several_ glasses of wine."

I just smile as she brushes past me to head down the stairs. Once she's out of earshot, I snort and shake my head. "I suppose I should tell her that going back home after you've been kidnapped and faked your own death is a bad idea, but she _is_ the genius." I sigh. "So, this work out to your plans?"

I glance behind my shoulder and watch as my parents seem to emerge from the shadows. It's spooky and altogether unnerving, even though I know how they do it.

"She would have suffered an accident within the first week of servitude," Mom comments.

"Or outlasted and taken over as the new Heir to the Demon," Papa says. "Imagine that. The shadows would either thrive or fall under her command."

"Well, at least you don't need to worry about that potential future," I say, watching the way Serling stalks out of the building. "So, I assume that the usual companies are in place to offer grants to keep her working on things you're interested in?"

"Of course, the Shadows are everywhere," Mom says. "What matters is your interests, though. Are you certain you wish to involve yourself in these power plays?"

I shrug. "The only way to establish this hospital was to become involved with heroes and villains alike. Everyone is going to be out to use this for personal gain, so at least this is one thing I'm aware of upfront. It's not ideal, but it's not the worst situation, either."

"Oh, my daughter," Mom whispers, linking her arm into mine. "You've become a fine warrior, in a way that we had not first expected. I'm proud."

"Thanks," I say, leaning my head against hers. Papa is quiet behind us, but I know that's just because he's aware of who just landed on the roof. Glancing over the rim of my glasses is enough to give me a profile of them, though it's difficult, almost _blurred_ , with all the lead in the way. "Anyway, you guys should go. Batman just got here and I know Uncle gets territorial about who gets to talk to him."

"Very," Papa says. He sighs as he hugs me, briefly. "We will come visit again, soon."

"Just next time try a secret handshake to confirm my identity," I suggest.

Mom's laughing as she hugs me. "Where's the fun in that?" She releases me and wipes at the corner of her eyes. "See you soon."

"Soon," I echo, watching them fade into the shadows. I sniff, reach up to rub at my eyes and shake myself into sanity as a new set of footsteps approach.

"Cleric," Batman says. His chin is unshaven, sporting a new wound. I know better than to ask. "I assume all went well with Doctor Roquette."

"Other than her deciding to go back to her old home to have a bubble bath," I say. Batman stiffens and follows that with a very parent-like sigh. "I know, disaster waiting to happen but well, I wasn't about to argue with her. I'd rather argue with a scorpion. It'd sting less."

"I'll go find her before this goes wrong," he says. He sounds very weary, like he's ready to curl up into a bubble bath of his own. I know better than to heal him without checking first. He gets _very_ grouchy about sudden touches. "We can discuss the next steps later."

"Taking a Zeta to Central City later," I say, "Flash wanted me to check over some goons he brought in, so meet you there?"

He's gone before I've even turned around. And he wonders why Robin has the obsession with disappearing without people noticing. At least Flash agreed to do a quick run for Japanese food as payment for my services - and with him, that _literally_ means running to Japan for some good curry and all the gyoza I can _smoosh_ into my face.

And then I'm having a bubble bath, because this has been a _long_ couple of days.


	7. Chapter 7

"You're lucky. Whenever I've dealt with having to heal magical damage before, it's been a _bitch_ to sort out." I'm healing the burnt flesh, watching the way it peels off her arm almost like kebab meat off a skewer.

And yet, still not enough of a gross mental image to stop me from eating kebabs.

"Yeah, lucky," the girl says with a roll of her eyes. Lanky, blonde and with arms toned from years of ' _training_ ' endured, I already feel like I know Artemis better than I should. To her I'm just the healer, brought in to fix some ouchies every so often.

To me she's the baby sister of one of my best friends.

"Just be thankful it wasn't anything Klarion did to you," I say. "Whatever that _thing_ is, it's not something that leaves damage I can heal."

"Oh," Artemis whispers. She falls quiet after that, watching my work. I'm honestly surprised the Team took on anyone else, though it makes sense, given that Speedy threw his toys out of the pram and stomped away.

"So being upfront," I say. I slide my glasses over my eyes so I can look at her. "What do you know about me?"

She stares at me as if I've asked something like what colour the sky is. Which, to be fair, I didn't know firsthand until I got these glasses several months ago.

"Everyone in Gotham knows about you," she says. "That's like asking if someone knows about the Joker. Except less clown-like and more heroic."

I manage to smile. The new skin grows over her arm easily, despite the fact that I'm not eating as I go for once. It's making me extremely hungry though. I could murder a steak.

"I guess of all the ways to be compared to him, infamy is probably the least offensive."

"Unless you're one of the nutjobs that worships him," she mutters. "I know you're neutral, that you help everyone." She tilts her head as she squints at me. "You tried healing my mom once, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I say, sighing. "If I'd been around when it happened, I'd have been able to do something. As it was, I couldn't do much." I shrug. "Anyway, brings me to the point I was trying to make. I'm friends with your sister."

She tenses, but doesn't go to attack me. It's already going better than I thought it would.

"I… she… I mean…"

"Secret's safe," I say. Done healing, I let go of her arm and drop my hands into my lap. She sits up on the standard doctor's office chair-slash-bed thing and runs her fingers over the new skin. Her first time being healed like this, so the novelty of watching your body repair itself before your eyes is still a fresh thing for her. "Like you said, neutral. I did promise Jade I'd keep an eye on you if you ever came into my radar."

Apparently that's the wrong thing to say. "I don't want your help just as favour to my family." She leaps to her feet and starts to storm past me.

I stand and point to the seat I've just vacated. "Sit."

She scowls at me. Raises her chin defiantly.

" _Sit_ ," I repeat, more forcefully this time. She sighs and drops into the seat with all the world-weary attitude a teenager can muster.

"Jade's a friend, but that doesn't mean I'm bound to do exactly what she wants," I say. "Right now I'm here helping to heal a hero and honestly, you really think your tantrum would be anything compared to some of the _bitchfits_ I've had to deal with? Girl, try dealing with the fallout of telling people you can't abort their affair baby."

Her eyes widen. "People have actually asked you that?"

"Oh yeah," I say with a sigh. "Literally _everything_ you can imagine going to the doctor for, as well as everything you'd be too embarrassed to get seen. I tried having an open day once near Gotham University. _That_ left me with some nightmares that made me glad I don't sleep."

She leans forwards. "So what's the weirdest thing you've ever had to deal with?"

Flashes of victims of the Joker, Killer Croc and even Zsasz flicker through my mind.

"Frat boy parties," I answer. "I don't know what it is with those boys and their obsession with putting things up their asses, but I'll never look at a dog whistle the same way again."

"I'm… honestly kinda regretting asking."

"Oh don't be. Your sister convinced me to pretend I couldn't heal him. Then she dared me to give him bad gas."

She gasps. "You didn't!"

"I did," I admit, laughing. "We left him handcuffed to a street light outside a house with about twelve poodles. It was _brilliant_."

It's only when she stops chuckling that her nose scrunches. "That seems kinda out of order though, if all he did was… well be a bit weird with a whistle."

"Well I think Jade asked him out in school and he said no, so…"

"Oh _god_ ," Artemis says, burying her face in her hands. "She doesn't do forgiveness well."

"Nope," I say. "I also got given a burmese python as a thank you for healing someone. It's name is Fluffy."

"Next you'll be telling me that you have a rabbit called Killer."

I laugh. "No, but I like that idea! I was thinking of getting a komodo dragon and calling it Jub-Jub, so they can all be the best of friends."

"Well, it's good to know that everyone with superpowers is crazy." She's smiling as she says it.

"Oh trust me, my sanity left a long time ago." As the conversation dips, I get the feeling that she's hiding something. It's not based on her biology, nor is it something bad. It's more like… a familiar sensation. One of not belonging. "Hey, I've got an idea," I say, "feel like playing hookie?"

She just stares at me. "Am I going to wake up in Biyalia in nothing but my underwear?"

"Oh _please_ , I'd leave you in the south pole to be eaten by polar bears."

"You realise polar bears live on the north pole, right?"

I laugh. "And that's what would make you being eaten by them all the better!" I spin and grab the door, being sure to gesture for her to follow me. "Now come on, I have an idea." I glance out of the doorway and sure enough, perfectly on time as ever is Kaldur, waiting his turn to be healed.

He smiles as he sees me and offers Artemis a quick nod as she emerges from the medical bay.

"Artemis. I am glad to see you are well after our encounter with Klarion."

"Well, at least I can cross 'fought a lord of chaos' off my bucket list, so hey, it's all good."

Kaldur, predictably, is lost by the sarcasm. Whilst he's searching for a reply, I grab his shoulders and spin him around.

"Come on Kaldur," I say, frogmarching him. "Artemis and I are hungry and as the team leader, I'm electing you to buy us all lunch."

He looks over his shoulder at me as he says, "I do not think that we should-"

"Oh, shush with your protocols and procedures. You owe me anyway, so you're buying food."

"Fine," he says with a sigh. "You can let me walk on my own. I will not attempt escape."

"Because you know better," I say, practically singing.

He walks ahead of us, shaking his head. Artemis falls into line with me, glancing curiously up at me. "Just what does he owe you for?"

"He wouldn't let me steal the batmobile."

She looks like she doesn't know what to say to that.

 **-x-x-x-**

The fact that we're not in Gotham means that people aren't quite used to me and my eating habits.

So the fact that I've just consumed a meal that's supposed to feed a family of five is enough to warrant lots of staring and whispered comments.

"Now I see why you've won every eating challenge there is in Gotham," Artemis says. She twirls her noodles around her chopsticks, showing off like the pro that she is. My attempts of eating with them usually don't end well.

Still do a better job than Kaldur, who it seems is _wearing_ the majority of his food.

"Healing uses a lot of energy," I say, patting my stomach. It's bad that I could still eat more. Can't really let Kaldur pay for all of this, even if I did tell him otherwise. I earn his yearly paycheck in a day, sometimes. "More if I'm not familiar with the body type. I can heal animals too, but if it's something strange like an emu then it's going to make me hungry enough to eat the damn thing after."

"This is why I believe a trip to Atlantis would be a bad idea," Kaldur says. He has a noodle hanging from his chin. I try my best not to laugh. I fail.

"Uh, Kaldur," Artemis says, pointing to it. I shoot her a betrayed look. He looked like an Egyptian king, just with a noodle for a beard, rather than the clip-on jewelled monstrosity they have in museums. "Do you… uh, do you want me to teach you how to use them?"

Kaldur, having given up in his battle with chopsticks, and instead just picking up dumplings and throwing them into his mouth whole, sighs as he nods. "That would be most kind of you, Artemis."

"No changing the subject," I say over them. I lean over the table, grabbing the pot of green tea and smile at the way the white tablecloth is stained with all manner of food around Kaldur. Even the children a couple of tables away from us haven't made that much of a mess, and their idiot parents decided to give them Sharpies to colour with.

"I want to go to Atlantis," I say. "Just think of how amazing it would be! You're all human, but not! The basis of human biology, magically merged with others!" I gasp as I finish pouring and set the teapot down. "You have squid people, don't you? _Ohmygod_ are there eel-people? _Peopeel_!" I cackle at my own joke.

Kaldur shakes his head as he sighs again. "And this is the other obvious reason why it would be a bad idea."

"You're mean," I say, grinning. "You're just worried I'll embarrass you in front of the big fish." I laugh. "See what I did there?"

Artemis, for her part, just groans like I've made a joke that belongs in a Christmas cracker. She smiles as I pour tea for her and I'm able to feel her watching as I finish and move onto filling Kaldur's mug. "So, how long have you two been dating?"

Kaldur chokes on a prawn. Instead of offering to help, I'm consumed by the wonder if it counts as offensive behaviour to eat certain seafoods in Atlantis. Can you eat a buffet of prawns if your neighbour has a shrimp-face? What if they have an octopus head? Can you still have calamari?

"We are not romantically entwined," Kaldur says, breathing deeply as he recovers.

"Oh," Artemis' eyes are wide. "I didn't mean anything by it, I just, well…"

"Kaldur's a dork and fun to annoy, but not interested," I say with a smile. "In fact, until I met Catwoman I was a shrinking violet and had no idea about how to flirt. Which makes it sound like she did something other than teach me how to use it to manipulate people, but that's all she did." I shake my head. "In terms of my love life, that sums it up best; _Not Interested_."

Artemis looks more confused than she did before.

"Some people like men, some people like women, some people like both," I say. "I just happen to not like anyone." Shrugging, I steal one of Kaldur's dumplings and grin as I eat it. "With my abilities I can see how everyone's biology works. From the skin all the way down to the nerves and hormones. From what I understand, normal people see the outer package and feel attracted to that. Well, I'm able to tell exactly what people's bodily urges are at all times. It's… well, _nauseating_. It's bad enough when I know those biological impulses are directed at me, but to have someone _in me_ and being able to feel all that?"

The thought of it actually makes me lose my appetite. I move my plate away from myself with a slow exhale and try to ignore the bile that's rising in my throat.

"And as I had to explain to Catwoman," I say slowly, closing my eyes and pretending that I can't feel my stomach threatening to force my food back up, "I have no desire about anything. No urge whatsoever. Freaked her out more when I told her I don't masturbate because I'm just not interested."

Kaldur's eyes widen. His ears turn interesting shades as he glances around to try and see if anyone overheard. "Natasha, I do not believe this is an appropriate topic."

"Why not? It's natural and most people in this room have done so at some point. In fact, why do you think I specifically requested us not to be served by that first waiter? He had _not_ washed his hands properly."

Kaldur looks like he's going to die of shame. Artemis just seems equal parts horrified and intrigued.

"You… see all of that?" she asks.

"Everything and more. It's why anyone who comes to me knows that I'm going to know about their identity."

"You know," Artemis says, "between the chaos earlier today and whatever weird you've got going on, I'm starting to think that maybe being normal isn't that bad."

"Artemis," Kaldur says with a clearing of his throat, "I hardly think that you are anything that could be classed as normal."

"She means unpowered, doofus," I say, smiling. "You've got magic and whatever else going on, I've got my own bullshit-tier healing and she's got a bow and arrow. No offence."

"None taken," she says with a snort. "I thought before that maybe getting powers would be cool. Never stopped to think of the downsides to them."

"And now?" I ask.

"Now I'm certain in that whatever I do, I want to do it with my own skills." She looks down at her hands. Scars from snapped bowstrings and whatever 'training' her parents made her endure dot her fingers and her palms. "I started doing this because I wanted to go against my family's legacy. Now… now I want to do this not only for me, but for everyone else that I can help. People look up to Batman because he's still just human, even if he doesn't sometimes seem it. That's what I want to become."

"And this," I say, leaning towards Kaldur, "is why you need to do a better job managing your team. Because so far all that's happened is you've all excluded her. Carry that on and you'll end up losing her."

"I, wait," Artemis nearly knocks her bowl flying as she drops her hands back to the table, "I didn't, I mean, where did you-"

"It's obvious," I say, "well, to me at least. Every member of the team is so wrapped up in their own insecurities and problems that they're not looking at the big picture. Even you," I say, flicking Kaldur's shoulder. "You're so busy worrying that you're not a good leader that you're _becoming_ a bad one because of your _constant_ fretting and indecision. Teams work well together only when they're experienced in working with each other." I point my chopsticks at him. "Stop thinking everything has to be your problem and ask your team for advice and opinions. Listen to them, and pull them in line when they're being assholes.

"And you," I say, pointing my chopsticks at Artemis now, "need to learn that it isn't weakness to let someone know how you feel. Kay-Eff runs his mouth a lot, _believe me_ , I know. Unless you actually let him know he's getting under your skin, he'll keep on. He doesn't like change and he doesn't understand that people may not see things the way he does. If he or anyone else gets to you with their comments about how you're not Speedy, tell them. Tell this doofus here," I say, gesturing to Kaldur.

"And stop worrying so much about your family life," I say, more softly. "Your team leader and Robin already know, and they're still happy to have you."

Her mouth drops open. She looks to Kaldur in horror. "You… you know?"

"Of course," he says with a nod. "However, you are not your family. Before you even joined us you assisted our endeavours and even saved our lives. We are not our families, and we are not our mentors. We are our own people and we should be judged because of our own actions."

"Exactly," I say. I take a sip of my green tea and try to ignore the bottomless pit that is my stomach. Apparently I used up more energy than I thought with all that healing. Fucking magic. Don't know how or why, but it's always a bitch to heal. "Speaking of judging people by their own actions," I turn to Kaldur and smirk. I can tell by the dawning terror in his eyes that he has a good idea about what I'm going to ask, "did you ever talk to that girl you said you had feelings for?"

Artemis leans forward on her elbows. She chuckles as Kaldur's mouth opens and shuts like a fish. "I… I have been far too busy to think of such a thing," Kaldur says.

"Poor excuse," Artemis says, rolling her eyes. "You like someone, you should tell them. Especially if she's back home. If you left without letting her know how you feel, she'll just assume that you aren't thinking of her and probably just move on."

"She would not…" Kaldur seems to lose his confidence in that moment. He bites his bottom lip as he looks to me. "What do you think?"

"I think I want pudding," I say. "Otherwise, I don't know. Don't understand how romantic minds work, so if Artemis says you're doing it wrong, my money is on her being right." I pat him on the shoulder. "And this is why you need her around. Megan doesn't think like a normal teenage girl, the others are all boys, so you need some intelligence."

Artemis smiles. "Thank you."

"But until you find that intelligence, you'll just have to settle for her."

She snorts. "Okay, _ouch_."

"Couldn't resist," I say, smirking. "Now you can bore him all about it whilst I go to the toilet."

I slip out of my seat and walk towards the bathrooms. Turning my head, I see that they're already enraptured in conversation. Kaldur is listening intently - I wouldn't be surprised if he starts taking notes. Artemis, meanwhile, looks like she's happy she's finally being taken notice of.

"My work here is done," I announce to myself. I sneak away as they're distracted, paying our bill and leaving a nice tip for all the poor souls having to work at this late hour.

Three hours later, when I'm back home and nestled underneath a castle of blankets with a cheese board and crap tv to keep myself entertained, I finally get a phone call asking where I am and if I fell into the toilet.

I text Jade to let her know just how long it took them to notice I'd gone.

Her reply is instantaneous and filled with expletives and promises of pain.


	8. Chapter 8

The problem with setting up a teaching hospital is that endless bureaucracy is a thing.

Most of it I'm able to filter through specific people built for these sort of things. The moneyheads I had bankroll this whole operation all came with lists of their own personally recommended employees for each area. I spent a good week interviewing each of them, watching their heart rates and the biochemistry of their bodies betraying their barefaced lies. The most trustworthy of the untrustable get to look over specifics, but that still leaves me with far too much to read through.

It's a good thing I don't sleep.

Even so, I feel _exhausted_. I lean my desk chair back and put my feet up on my desk. The office is coming together, still a lack of paintings or pictures, despite the fact I'm constantly told it'll make it look more normal if I had at least something decorating the walls.

Thing is, art is subjective and I grew up functionally blind. Why would I want to stare at a painting of the sky when I could look _outside_ and watch it in real time?

A knock at my door grabs my attention. Since the place isn't actually open yet, I've got the door shut to attempt to block out the noises of construction outside.

I remove my glasses and glance through the door. Male, possibly late thirties, Caucasian facial structure and one _hell_ of an alcohol and drug ravaged liver. Not to mention the tar resting in his alveoli.

And are those _claw marks_?

They're there, but they're not at the same time. It's like a damage I'm able to recognise, yet my vision swims whenever I look at it. It looks like two great big, human-like hands have reached up from beneath and tried to grab this man and _drag_ him downwards.

I put my glasses on as an unfamiliar sense of confusion and dread works its way into the pit of my stomach. Opening the door, I press a smile on my face, expecting to see someone down-and-out, possibly looking for something to help with the pain their nerves are constantly signalling.

Instead I open the door and find a little old woman staring back at me.

I blink once, twice, and settle for staring in silence at the woman.

"Well don't just stand there catching flies!" she demands, putting her gloved hands on her hips. She has a beige overcoat that looks several sizes too big for her. She purses her lips at me, and though I don't know much about lipstick, it looks like she smudged it over her face by kissing someone who was wearing it.

"Are you going to let me in or what, young lady?"

I shake my head and try to recover. "Of course," I say, "come in."

She moves with a hobble that she has no obvious injuries to cause. I glance at her over the top of my glasses. The profile is exactly that of what I saw through the door. Either my powers are failing, or this is an illusion.

Given these glasses are only a recent thing, I'm going with the latter.

"Coffee?" I offer, moving around my desk to grab the espresso machine on the stand behind it. I move to make certain my back isn't to the little old lady, watching as she takes a seat and leans back, legs spread wide open.

"Oh yes, I'd love some," she says demurely, as if her posture isn't inviting everyone to dive into her vagina. "Black and sweet, just like you."

The _revulsion_ that echoes through me leaves my skin dancing with goosebumps. I take a deep breath, continuing to smile as I make her a coffee, grabbing my own forgotten, cold cup as I spin around and place them both on my desk. I move the piles of paperwork quickly, tucking them on the counter behind my desk and grab a few sachets of sugar from my desk's condiment drawer.

Some people have alcohol stashed in their desks, I have a child's dream of e-numbers and sugar.

I watch the way the 'old lady' reaches forwards, gripping at the IKEA mug. She holds the handle with only three fingers. Her pinkie seems to blur as it brushes over the handle of the mug, as if her hands are in actuality, much larger.

I glance at her over the top of my glasses once more. Were it not for them, this would have already played out very differently. Thanks to them, however, I have a better idea of who I'm sitting across from.

Never actually met him in the flesh, so I could be wrong, but reputation precedes everyone in this line of work.

I grab my own coffee and take a swig. "So," I say slowly, "what can I do for you, Mister Constantine?"

A man's chuckle echoes from the old woman's throat. She waves a hand and just like that I'm sat across the desk from the profile I saw without my glasses. His face is hollow, yet not in a gaunt way that I'm familiar with. It makes me think that this is what Bruce will look like in a few years, if he's not able to remain above Gotham's darkness.

Interestingly the lipstick smudge over his mouth is still there.

"Well love, gotta admit, wasn't expecting you to figure it out _that_ fast." He takes a swig of his coffee, smacking his lips as he places the mug back on the desk with a thud. "Was hoping I could have a bit of fun first. Call me John. But I've got to ask - what tipped my hand? Was it the flirting? Geriatrics need love too - planning on getting myself a nice couple of firm-bodied toyboys and younger ladies if I get to that age myself."

The goosebumps are back on my skin. I have to resist the urge to recoil as I shudder. "I knew you were a man before I even opened my door," I tell him, grinning at the way his facial muscles twitch, suppressing his surprise. "You threw me with the illusion, I'll admit that. But I was already distracted by the clawed hand impressions that run _through_ your body." I move my glasses to perch atop my head and look once more. Its as if someone has made the pattern through every _layer_ of his biology. I have to put the glasses back on to be able to look at him without feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh well, you know how it is, love," he says with a far-too-casual shrug. "Making deals with demons always leaves a mark."

Something about his tone tells me that it's not figurative demons he's talking about.

"Well I can't heal _that_ ," I say, gesturing to him. "Could probably sort the liver damage and maybe help purge your lungs, but magic is hard enough to heal through. I can't quite begin to imagine how difficult healing through _demonic_ damage would be."

He smirks as he crosses his legs. "Well, good to know you're not denying demons and monsters straight away, like so many others. But I'm not here for me, no. If anything, I need a favour, and I was hoping you're the sort of individual with superpowers that still has that little thing we like to call common sense."

"John," I say, resisting the urge to sigh as I do so, "I don't know you, personally. If you want a favour, can we just cut the crap and skip to the part where you tell me what it is?"

"All business," he says, still smirking. "I like that in a lady. Care to get to know me personally over a drink? I'll even be a gentleman and buy you breakfast."

"It's two in the afternoon."

" _Exactly_."

I groan as I shake my head. Here I thought that Selina was the most brazen person I knew. She'll take her trophy being stolen as a personal insult and double down on her efforts to reclaim that title.

"Not interested," I tell him. "Not now, not ever."

"Yeah, I got that vibe from you, but you can't blame a bloke for trying." He leans back and reaches into a pocket. "Usually the only asexual beings I meet are angels, but having met several Nephilim I'm starting to think they're all as full of shit as any old regular human." He pulls out a packet of cigarettes of all things, and slides one out of the pack. "Mind if I smoke?"

"If you light it in here, I'll make you eat it."

His face cracks with an expression I'd place more on a child knowing he's pressing all the right buttons. "Well love, have it your way. Down to business it is." He sighs as he reaches into an inside pocket of his beige coat and pulls free a devil emoji shaped flash drive, leaving the cigarette behind in its place. "Got a whole bunch of info on that," he says, tossing it to me. I catch it with one hand. "I've spent a fair few weeks of the past few months in South America. Brazil, Mexico, saw a little bit of Peru, even made it down to the arse end of nowhere in Chile. Been following a trail that goes cold moments after it appears. Locals are panicking about judgement day looming. Kids disappear from their beds during the night, reappear in the morning in completely different locations, claiming that it was the _parents_ instead that did the midnight runner. If they're found alive, that is.

"Now, I don't claim to be _the_ expert on the occult," he says with a toothy smile, "but I'm pretty clued up so far as the fucked up mumjo-jumbo plays. Whoever's doing this is practicing. For what, I don't know, but this is something that our friends on high need to start planning for."

I look from the pendrive to Constantine. He's not lying. Whatever he's seen recently has rattled him, though given his line of work it doesn't mean that this is what has him spooked.

I place the flash drive on the desk. "I… I can't," I say.

His face darkens in a moment. "The hell do you mean, you ' _can't_ '? I've just told you that there's children bloody well vanishing in the night! This is exactly the sort of thing that those bloody lycra-wearing busybodies need to do something about!"

"I agree," I say, "which is why you need to give it to them."

He leans back in his chair, scoffing. "Yeah, right, like they'll let me anywhere near their clubhouse. Zatara's _still_ pissy with me because I _may_ have had something to do with circumstances that ended up with his wife kicking the bucket."

"So?" I ask. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. "That's his problem, not yours. If he wants to ignore this because of some grudge about his dead wife, then he doesn't deserve to call himself a hero."

"Well, I guess that dark mark on your soul isn't just from having killed people."

For once it's me that's stunned into a loss for words.

"What? You think that sort of thing doesn't leave lasting damage?" He laughs, darkly. "I spend my days stopping mystic horrors from doing all sorts of shitty things. Scrying a person's soul with a glance is a neat little trick that helps me figure out if they're in danger from the latest horror to escape Satan's broom cupboard."

I take a breath. "For someone who wants a favour, you're going about this in an interesting way."

"What can I say? I'm an interesting person."

" _Not_ the word I'd choose." I take a deep breath and try to let out the pent-up aggression I can feel working its way through me. "I'll talk to Batman, get him to assemble the mystic experts in the League and get a time and date for you to make them listen."

"That's all very nice and all, but what about Zatara? He's still going to be a bit of a prick about it."

"What about him?" I ask, shrugging. "I'm getting Batman to arrange this, so I'll be there to back you. I don't know much about magic, I know even _less_ about whatever occult things you're dealing with and honestly, I don't know how much help I'll be. But whatever you've found is real and we need them to do something about it. This way I'm not directly doing you a favour, so neither of us owes the other anything afterwards."

He grins as he leans back in his chair. "Well, aren't you the regular deal maker? So why don't I swing by in a couple of days and we'll talk then?"

"Come back tomorrow, about this time," I tell him. "And bring food. Most people know when dealing with me, I'm a lot nicer if there's something for me to snack on."

"And here I thought that _I_ was the perfect snack."

"You realise I can make you impotent with a touch, right?"

He pales very quickly and almost leaps to his feet. "Well, I can tell when I've outstayed my welcome. Tomorrow it is."

I never even touched him and I feel like I need to scrub myself with wire wool.


	9. Chapter 9

"Why am I not surprised you managed to get a conference room installed into the basement of _my_ hospital?"

Batman says nothing. He stands across from us, at the head of an oak table that has coffee and cookies already waiting for us.

"Well, you know what the Bat is like. Always gotta have his grubby mitts in everyone else's pie." Constantine swaggers up to a chair, pulls it out and sits on it backwards. He winks at a distinctly unimpressed Wonder Woman. "Now _my_ hands? Much more dexterity there. You'd be amazed at the things they're capable of."

"I'm certain my life will be better off without feeling such disappointment."

"Beauty _and_ a bite." Constantine is smirking as he drums his hands on the table and reaches over for a cookie. "Well, you've certainly rolled out the red carpet here."

The simmering, about to boil over pile of rage that is Giovanni Zatara has his hands balled into fists, and I can see the blood his fingernails are drawing from his palms.

"Mister Constantine," Giovanni growls, using such a tone that I'm able to feel a _thrum_ in the air. "Would you please act _professional_ during this discourse?"

I take a seat beside Constantine, opposite the furious magician and the anomaly that is Captain Marvel. He's almost bouncing in his seat, like a kid that's had too much candy. I've seen him before, without my glasses, and whatever he is, I don't think it's human. Captain Marvel, to my powers, is nothing more than a human-shaped _void_.

"This is so _cool_ ," Captain Marvel gushes. He reaches for a cup of coffee, though at a stern look from Batman, he seems to think better of it and grabs a cookie instead. "I mean, we're here, in a hidden room beneath a hospital, and it's all to talk about magic and-"

"Captain. Marvel."

"Oh, right." He deflates under Batman's withering look. Batman presses a few buttons on his glove, projecting a screen in the room between us. "If you would, Constantine, please present the information you have gathered."

"Oh of course, though I should warn you, I've usually at least been bought a drink before performing for a crowd."

It gets the briefest of grins from Wonder Woman. Captain Marvel looks lost, Zatara looks pissed.

And Constantine suddenly sobers as he tosses Batman his devil emoji flashdrive. "It's all on there, mate. Photographs from the scenes, video interviews from the few witnesses that were left alive."

Batman presses something and the screen flickers to life. A hovel is projected before us, its walls dilapidated and barely holding together. Smears of what appear to be blood are decorating the wall.

And in full view is a strange symbol, like none I've ever seen before. Just looking at it makes me feel uneasy.

Zatara is alert, leaning forwards. Captain Marvel has a frown on his face. I feel woefully out of my depth.

At least until the images of injuries follow.

"That's what happens when kids are left in a dimension with no adults," Constantine narrates. "They get scared, they get hungry, they try to function without adult supervision."

Those that should be funny - like that of a kid having superglued Lego to a toilet - lose their hilarity when followed by photos of kids having tried, and failed, to cook themselves food. Oil burns, knife wounds…

More than one photograph of kids having discovered their parents' gun stash.

Thankfully those images are quickly replaced with more symbolism.

"Can't quite identify the ritual they're trying," Constantine says, "seems like they're mixing up Sumerian, Babylonian, and what I'm certain are spells originating from up above and down below."

"He is… correct," Zatara says, sounding distinctly unhappy with having to admit such a thing. "I have never seen such a combination of occult. Are these images you've taken in chronological order?"

"'Course, mate. There ain't always logic in my methods, so count yourselves lucky you're being treated to the once in a blue moon show."

"There's something being added, as the time goes on," Wonder Woman observes, the first of us to point it out. Honestly, to me it just looks like something I'd see on the back of a heavy metal album.

"And several strokes are being changed, just slightly," Zatara adds, "as if the spell is being refined as it's progressing."

"They're experimenting," Captain Marvel says, "changing one variable as they're moving along. This symbol," he says, pointing at the top right of what appears to be an ankh surrounded by a chakram, "the inflections they've been changing seem to be related to time."

"Yeah, averaging out on the increase," Constantine says around a cookie, "couple of fallbacks here and there, but generally getting longer, getting bigger and more of a bloody shitshow."

"I've seen that before," Wonder Woman says, pointing to what appears to be a series of squiggles, "in the Pantheon of Gods, that symbol relates to adulthood."

"So arbitrarily speaking, whatever is being planned is looking to be for a longer period of time, over a wider area, and creating dimensions separated by a specific definition of adulthood." Batman looks between all of us, his voice as serious as the grim expression visible beneath the cowl. "Are we agreed on that?"

"Yes," Zatara says. "Whatever Mister Constantine has found, it is something that needs our full attention to investigate." He folds his hands together, his expression grave. "Were he not a walking nexus of death, I would suggest one of us working alongside Constantine to track these people."

"Ain't happening, mate," Constantine says, reaching for yet another cookie. "This isn't the only thing that's got my eye." You'd have to be blind by the way he looks at Wonder Woman. She, however, rolls her eyes. "I've got my own demons to chase, and that's not a figure of speech. I brought this to all of you to make sure someone's chasing after it. Whatever's going on needs people looking into it, and it needs a hand that isn't _'_ _a walking nexus of death'_."

Zatara matches his glare with an equal one of his own. "Sindella, as well as _countless_ others have died as a _direct_ consequence of your actions. I will not apologise for the _truth_."

"This is not the time," Wonder Woman says coolly, "and as it stands, we must determine who should follow this trail further. The team is far too unequipped to deal with this. Especially after the events in Bialya last week"

"Agreed," Batman says.

"I can follow them!" Captain Marvel declares, going so far as holding up his hand and waving it. "I-"

"No," Batman growls. "This is a matter for the League to decide on. Constantine," he turns to the man, who is currently waving his eyebrows at Wonder Woman. He hasn't quite realise yet that she's spiked his coffee with a laxative that'll kick in about an hour from now. "We have nothing but gratitude for you bringing this to us. You did well."

"Sometimes the old dog learns a new trick," Constantine says with a smirk. "And here I was about to get the healer to bring all this info to you. Glad I let her convince me otherwise."

"Not like I'd have been able to understand any of this on my own," I mutter. "I'll have Ser- _Zoey_ see about getting the medical nanite project to more of a final stage. Looks like we'll be needing it loaded up near every Zeta possible pretty soon." I stand, snagging a cookie before I leave. "Next time, maybe just call me when people need healing. _This_ ," I say, gesturing to the room, "is way beyond my knowledge."

"It's far beyond all of our knowledge, love," Constantine says, "but we're still trying."

"Well I was only ever here to act as your security blanket. Now we've established I don't need to do that, I have a soon-to-open hospital to organise." I glance at the way Constantine is draining his coffee and wince. "Oh and the washrooms are near the staircases. Probably should have pointed that out beforehand, but then again, given there's an entire room down here I didn't know about, maybe we should consult Batman about such things."

I just really hope said washrooms have working plumbing. Otherwise I'm arming Batman with a plunger and he can deal with the latest mess in Gotham.


	10. Chapter 10

Big Belly Burger is the best.

"Uh, I think I'm pregnant," Selina mutters. She goes so far as unbuttoning her pants and pulling down the zipper.

"Congratulations on your food baby," Jade grumbles. She slumps backwards in her chair, burger sauce staining her chin a strange orange-pink colour. "I think I'm getting the meat sweats." She flicks her wrist and a fan just _appears_ in her hand. She pops it open and begins fanning herself. "Just keep the onion rings away from me."

"With pleasure," I say, grinning as I tear into another one. Honestly, they're both weak. I've eaten twice what they have and I still have room to spare.

I can see why this place is always fit to bursting. Not many fast food places are still packed at three in the morning, yet this one has a queue of surprisingly sober patrons waiting for food.

"How are you _still_ eating?" Selina leans back in her seat, very much like a pregnant woman with cramps would. "You're not human, are you?"

"It would explain a lot," Jade agrees. She scowls as she finds a pickle that's fallen down her chest and nestled in her long, black hair. Shrugging, she pops it in her mouth. "Speaking of, you never did answer my question."

I take a slurp of banana milkshake as I think about it. "Honestly, the only time I ever met a clone was when New Zealand cloned that sheep. Never really looked at one before, so they brought me one from another country to see if I could tell the difference." I shrug. "They looked exactly the same to me." I place my drink down. "I'd ask why, but I really don't want to know. Besides, aren't you meant to be in Rhelasia for that press conference later today?"

Jade makes a disgusted sound. "The _last_ thing I need now is more Daddy-Daughter time. My father is already being an ass about the fact my sister travelled to Atlantis with Aqualad."

"Yeah," I grumble around a fry, "and _I'm_ still annoyed he went with her instead of me. Think of all the people down there! Can you imagine the biology of how they work?"

"Oh yes," Selina mutters, "I can see it now; their women laying clutches of eggs and just waiting for a man to come over and fertilise them."

"And that's some mental imagery that'll _never_ leave me." If anything, Jade looks ready to vomit now. "Black Spider's off doing the mission with my father. I'm taking some much needed _non_ -family time."

"Well, you were just in Starling City because your boytoy is here." Selina smiles as she stretches backwards. "Next time you meet him, _please_ do invite me. Oh, I would _love_ to be the meat in that sandwich."

"And just like that, I've lost my appetite," I say, pushing the fries away. I place them on the table between us, have a quick sip of my milkshake and take the fries back, nibbling at the corner of one. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice!"

"I said nothing," Selina says, smirking. "Honestly it's like watching a pack of ravenous locusts sometimes."

"Locusts chew their food first," Jade adds. "She acts more like a white blood cell, just _engulfing_ her food."

"You're both hilarious," I say. "Why am I suffering with the both of you?"

"You invited us," Selina says. She reaches across the table, stealing an onion ring. "Though I did hear a funny story about how a certain roguish magician ended up pissing out of his backside only a little while after meeting with a few big names."

"One day you're going to tell me how you find out these things," I mutter. "And it's not like he didn't have it coming," I say with a shrug. "Besides, my truce is between heroes, villains and generally trying to cause each other a bit more harm than spending a day recovering from diarrhoea."

Jade leans forwards, smirking. "You're just overlooking it because he got under your skin."

"Well, you two have never spoken with her for long enough to know she has a sense of humour. Or that practical jokes in her home aren't quite as childish. You should have seen her when she first discovered a whoopie cushion."

Jade and Selina share a look with each other. "Now there's a mental image," Jade comments. "So, why are we here? I assume you didn't call us both here because you want to set us up on a blind date with the Green Arrow. Or Black Canary."

"They're together, so if anything it'd be a group date," Selina purrs.

"Do you guys ever stop?" I groan. With a sigh I open another sachet of ketchup and pour into an empty burger wrapper. "And why would I need an ulterior motive? Maybe I just want to see my friends."

"Well at least we're not _brunching_ ," Jade sighs.

I shrug. "My hospital is ready to open next week. I think after that I'm going to be so busy that I won't have time to think, let alone see anyone that doesn't need healing."

"Or arms reattaching," Jade adds.

Selina laughs as she leans back in her chair. I watch the way her eyes wander, over to a guy in the crowd who has arms bigger than my waist. "Personally my favourite was when you had to detach that young couple." She makes a crude gesture. "There's death by misadventure and then there's adding a new chapter to the Kama Sutra."

Jade rolls her eyes. "You are _really_ gunning to outdo that magical hobo, aren't you?"

" _Naturally_ ," Selina hums. "I'm offended that anyone could think roguish charm is a match for my feminine wiles. I'm certain I have a higher success rate anyway."

I laugh. "Cast a wide enough net…"

Jade cackles. Selina gasps and throws the remains of her onion ring at my head. "So _rude_ ," she says, though her eyes are still sparkling. "But true."

"Well as it stands, sitting here watching you eat is making me anxious," Jade says. She leans back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. "So I have an idea of what to do. For old times' sake, if nothing else."

I'm smiling, even though I'm trying to look serious. "The last time we tried that we both had to choose new secret identities."

"And that's wherein the fun lays," Jade says. She glances over to Selina. "What do you say, Sels? Eager?"

"I have no idea what you're both talking about," Selina says, "and I'd be a fool to say no."

"You were a bad influence on Infinity Island, and you've never got any better." I grab my last fry, use it to collect the remainder of my ketchup and savour the last bite. "But let's do it."

"And just what are we doing?" Selina asks exasperatedly. "I'm as fond of surprises as the next girl, but Batman has this thing against me having my usual fun."

"Just a treasure hunt," I say, innocently. "Nothing that can affect their ability to help people so… Resident Evil?"

Jade laughs. "Oh we haven't done that in the _longest_ time." She grabs Selina's wrist excitedly. "Lock them out, hide the key to get there in a secure place, hide that key in another and so on and so forth."

"Talia only holds the best time because she cheated and just blew up the entrance to her bunker," I say. "First to lose buys the others whatever the winner decides."

"Alright, I'm in," Selina says. "Better get your purses ready ladies, because I've always wanted my own strip club."


	11. Chapter 11

No one notices a thing as I drop my final key in a letter box.

My hacking abilities or general computer savvy may be nowhere near the levels of the likes of Serling and Batman, but I'm still able to access the newly christened Red Arrow's weapons stash. Seeing biological remains on key-coded locks was one of the very first ways I was taught to pick a computer lock.

After that, it was a simple thing to smash it so it didn't work anymore, lock the stash manually, then hide that key in a lockbox, hide _that_ key in _another_ lockbox and so on and so forth. I stopped at four, because it was already feeling like overkill by that point.

Jade's gone after Black Canary, whilst Selina has gone straight after the Green Arrow. She's never exactly one to do things by halves.

I make my way into the apartment block we chose to meet on and make my way up the stairs. I'm the first one on the roof, left alone with the midday sky view.

So when I spin around, I leap about a foot in the air when I find out I'm not longer alone.

"Ain't you supposed to be trained as an assassin? What sorta contract killer is so easily spooked?"

"Constantine," I grunt. He smirks at me, waving as he sparks up a cigarette. "I thought you'd gone to ground the moment everything with the League was done."

"Call it professional courtesy," he says, taking a drag. He makes a gesture with his fingers, and I watch as a packet of _something_ appears in them. "Funny thing about glamours and illusions - people rely a lot on their sight. It's one of the easiest senses to fool." He takes another long drag of his cigarette. "Never wondered how it is your buddy found out so quickly about the _oh-so-secret_ meeting?"

"I should have figured you were behind it," I mutter. "Doesn't make sense for anyone else to have opened their mouths. I really can't think of how you benefit."

He takes another long pull of his cigarette. "Whoever said anything about _me_ benefiting?" He flicks the remains to the ground. "Now, I ain't an evil supervillain, so let's see if you're able to connect the dots yourself. I do get really _bored_ of listening to demons and angels gloat, so don't make me into one of them, alright love?"

I just about stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Okay, so you fooled me with an illusion, then rather than leaking the details of the meeting, you opened your mouth about the fact that your drink got spiked…" It's easy to put the pieces together, but it just seems so… pointless. "Okay, but it was just a _laxative_. What does that matter?"

He sighs. "Well for one, there never was a laxative." He grins as he slides his hands into his pockets. "Really think I'd go down to a case of the shits? Like I said: sight is the easiest sense to fool. Try asking Wonder Woman why she put that in my drink. She won't know what you're talking about, because she never did." He walks towards me, chuckling. "Funny thing about being the one guy everyone dislikes - people like to overlook little things. Made it so only those that'd ignore such a thing saw the… well let's call it an illusion, huh? Makes it easier for you to understand." He pulls free a new cigarette and sparks that up too. "Now, pieces lining up?"

"Okay fine, you framed Wonder Woman for that… _really_?" The pieces line up and I feel my hands ball into fists. "My _truce_? Why are you seeking to bring that down?"

"Simple, really." He takes another drag. "Buncha creeps are skulking through South America doing fucked up things. We can't stop them yet and we don't know where they're going next. Best thing to do is to plan for when shit hits the fan. Now Gotham? Well, this shithole attracts all sorts. If your truce goes to shit, it becomes open season in this fancy new hospital of yours.

"So unlike _some_ , I noticed that there was a helmet belonging to a certain _Doctor Fate_ hidden in a duffel bag in that room. With him in the game again, means that the League has a bit more magical power behind their punch. To keep your truce going, they'll use magic to make your hospital into a true neutral zone. And a _Lord of Order's_ magic? Well, that'll be strong enough to stave off any dark magic that might being planned."

"So you manipulated the League, framed Wonder Woman as potentially breaking a truce, all to create a safe zone from whatever's being planned?" I whistle. "That's actually a lot better than anything I'd have been able to come up with."

"Yeah well, times must and - okay, was not expecting _that_." Having finished another cigarette, he tosses it to the ground. "And here I had a whole speech planned to sway you over to my way of thinking. Sure you've not got any doubts? It'd be a shame to let all that planning go to waste."

"Not interested," I say. I pace away from him, if only to keep him from reading the fact I'm impressed, "Pissed that you've single-handedly set things into motion that breaks my truce, but it's not like I can do anything now." I glance at him from the corner of my eyes, around my glasses. Just as I thought, I can't see him. There's nothing but an empty haze. "And you're not even here right now."

"Took you long enough." He sparks up another cigarette. "Think I'd really come out here, in the middle of the day and let myself be caught? Give me _some_ credit. Besides, the plan isn't foolproof until the villains see Gotham as their only target."

I sigh. "Better Gotham than the whole world." It's sound logic, much like that I'd see from my family. "I'm not helping you."

"Wouldn't expect you to, love. Best thing about my plans? They don't need anyone but me to do things. You can tell the League what I've done, or you can keep it to yourself but either way, they'll end up doing the same thing. The easiest way to manipulate someone is to know your target."

"You don't know me."

"Oh, I know your type, love." He flicks the third cigarette to the ground. I only just notice that they never actually land on the rooftop floor. "The fact you saw me get spiked and said nothing says it all. You're not a very nice person, are you?" He chuckles at the expression I feel my face contort into. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that I have to break this truce that you worked so hard to make. Though I am curious as to why you're not more bothered by it. Thought you'd be angry, trying to kill me. _Everyone_ else seems to have taken a shot."

"I knew someone would find a way to corrupt it," I say. "Nothing stays the way you want it to."

His laugh is a mixture of surprise and awe. "You already have something planned, don't you?"

"You don't get an answer to that question," I tell him. "Now I think it's time for you to leave."

He bows theatrically. "As you wish. I know I'll get the flack for this and people will hate me more than they already do, but Gotham really is the best choice to make these creeps target. Between Zatara, Batman and all the bullshit they can pull out of their arses between them, it's probably one of the only places where they'll be able to defeat what's coming."

"I'm sure they will," I agree. "Just like I'm sure that if you ever show up there again, you won't be able to rest for people trying to kill you."

He shrugs. "Already got demons and angels gunning for me. Might as well piss off a couple of aliens and get the whole set."

I turn around and just like that, he's gone. I hear the sound of gravel crunching under bootsteps and sigh at Selina's approach.

"Well," she purrs, "that was certainly _interesting_."

"Tell me about it," I grunt. "Guess it's time to start cashing in favours. Looks like everyone's going to be pretty busy in the next few weeks."


	12. Chapter 12

"I think I must be missing something here. You want _me_ to be in charge of making sure these people follow a set of rules. You are aware that I have spent a _long_ time making sure some of these people never saw life outside of a cell, correct?"

I pause in our tour. It's been a whole three days since the hospital opened and I don't think we've had a moment's rest since. Despite what people seemed to want, given Constantine's little plan we figured that a public ceremony wasn't a good idea. He's in the wind, much to the Justice League's chagrin, though I'm aware Zatara has spread the word with his arcane connections that Constantine is officially in Gotham's bad books.

Not that it'll do much. The guy seems to get away with a body trail that'd make most serial killers green with envy. I don't know if it's via deals with devils or something else, but if even Batman has trouble pinning him down then he's got some serious mojo on his side.

Then again, Batman is probably not the best benchmark of a successful hero, given the Joker. And Poison Ivy. Also Bane. And The Riddler.

No wonder they're always trying to get me to sign on to help.

I move to the side of the ocean-blue painted corridors to allow a gurney to be brought through, carrying what a quick glance without my glasses tells me to be a middle aged man with a broken leg, three bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Nothing I need to help with.

"I'm aware, Ms Waller." She holds herself in such a way that I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me she was associated with my parents' League. There's a strict, no-nonsense sense about her that leaves me with no questions as to what would happen to anyone that would cross her.

I glance into one of the large recovery rooms, noting that it's already down from ten empty beds to three. I knew that we were going to busy, but I don't think I'd prepared for _this_.

Three nurses that came from a gang operating in Corto Maltese pass us, led by a recent transfer from Gotham General. For now it seems like the past is the past and everyone is working towards the general health of the patients, but I'm not an idiot. Tensions are going to flare at some point.

I relay exactly that to Amanda Waller, paying attention to the scrutiny with which she glares at the three ex-gang members.

"I know what people like to say about me, and I'm not deaf. At some point someone is going to try and take advantage of what I'm offering - if they're not already." I make a gesture and continue to lead her through the recovery ward. "We'd be stupid not to prepare for such a situation, but we're extending enough trust that we won't act unless we have to."

"Seems to me like you're just setting yourself up for failure."

The coffee in her hands has long gone , she lifts the styrofoam cup to her lips to take another sip. Thankfully she doesn't wince at the taste.

If there was one thing Bruce insisted the hospital have, it was decent coffee. And far be it for me to deny the rich investor a relatively benign demand.

"It's like a fire drill, isn't it? Or a mock terrorist attack that the emergency services use for training. Everyone needs to know what to do in such a situation, whilst simultaneously hoping for it not to happen."

Her face is stern, as emotive as concrete. "In my experience the easiest way to make sure someone _doesn't_ do something is to remove their ability to do anything except what you want them to." She drains the last of her coffee and _crunches_ the cup in her fist. "However, that is not to say that what you're doing is without merit. I've spent a long time doing what I did, Cleric. I even made certain that your services weren't required at the prison just to make sure that the prisoners knew there was no easy ride."

"And why else do you think I sought you out?" As we reach the end of the corridor, I glance quickly at the directions. Paediatrics to the left - really not in the mood to be depressed by the things people do to injure children - and another recovery ward to the right, so I press the button to call the elevator instead. "Without wanting to sound like I'm stroking your ego, you do a good job making the hard calls, and you do a thankless job well."

"Aside from the recent attempted jailbreak that got me fired, you mean."

I have many opinions about that, none of which I'm willing to voice. Everything about Hugo Strange just screams _supervillain_ , but the League is waiting for actual evidence to move on, that even the corrupt judges won't be able to argue with. "Trash can's just there," I say, pointing to it. The doors to the elevator open with a soft _ding_ and I walk in, holding the doors open for her. "And compared to the likes of Blackgate and the revolving door of Arkham Asylum, you did an amazing job."

She snorts. "That's like saying an adult wipes his ass better than a newborn and an invalid."

"Be that as it may, my point stands."

The elevator opens with a soft sound, giving us access to the morgue. Rather than the dimly lit, possibly haunted morgues that seem omnipresent in Gotham, the corridors here are brightly lit and painted in a strange shade of green that reminds me of cabbage. Apparently it's meant to be seashell green, or something as pretentious sounding.

Haven't been to the beach since I gained the ability to see, so maybe that's something I should add to my list.

"And the point of this hospital is to function without relying on you." Amanda phrases it like a question, though her tone carries it as a statement. "It would seem you're planning for a day when you're not around."

"I'd be stupid not to," I say with a shrug. The morgue has three tables in the middle of the adjoining room, as well as rows of seating at the back of the room for medical students. And security cameras covering the entrances and the operating tables themselves, because this _is_ Gotham.

Zatara even made certain that there's demonic capturing symbols painted beneath the flooring, just to be sure.

We walk into the operating room to find it's just us, with a recently investigated cadaver still freshly sewn up on the table, still strapped into the heavy duty metal cuffs that hold the body's wrists and ankles. Some may think it's overkill, though I imagine the amount of murdered coroners in Gotham _alone_ stands as a viable enough reason for their necessity. The autoclave is running in the corner of the room, and a quick glance without my glances on confirms that the attending coroner is in the break room next door.

It also shows me the corpse in the familiar dim, blurry haze that my powers identify as a dead body.

Whoever the person was in life, he certainly died badly. There's knife wounds all throughout his chest, as well as a long cut up either side of his thigh, from his knee to his groin. Judging by the state of his genitalia, it looks like someone took a meat tenderiser to him.

"Either your coroner needs better training, or he had one _hell_ of a jilted ex-lover."

"Neither," I say. I press my hand to his temple, only to frown as nothing truly registers. When people are alive it's like a constant stream of information the moment I touch them, almost like an overload. I can tell what each and every organ is doing, where nerve signals are finding trouble, almost _feel_ the cholesterol in the arteries and _hear_ the stomach acid dissolving food and the peristalsis in the intestines.

Here, it's like I've put on noise cancelling headphones. It's considerably more difficult to understand the mechanisms of a dead body - and it leaves me with a feeling of such _wrongness_ that I almost want to vomit - but my brief first glance revealed that his head was duller than the rest of his body.

"Injection of something in the base of his skull," I say, turning his head over. Where his hair has been shaved it's easier to see the small needleprick against the pale colour of his skin.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you made certain you already knew what had happened here," Amanda says. She looks up at the office, frowning. "Is it normal for your staff to ignore anyone walking into the morgue?"

"The security camera feeds into the office there, as well as the security office and backs up to a remote location." Rather than looking at the office, I try and figure out what killed the person. There's something familiar about the strange compound I can sense in their brain. It's unresponsive to my manipulations. It's almost like water, but behaves…

 _Lazarus_.

I glance up at the office, staring out of the corner of my eyes. The coroner we hired is female, mid thirties, has a metal implant in her leg.

She's also currently unconscious in the corner of the office, hidden behind a locker filled with stationary. In her place is a _very_ good substitute, almost identical save for the metal implant.

"Ms Waller," I say slowly, dropping the body's head. "I need you to do me a favour. I'm going to walk over to that office and when shit goes wrong, I need you to draw your gun that I know you have on you, and I need you to shoot this corpse point blank in the head."

To her credit, she doesn't even flinch. "My money would have been on this place lasting a week." She moves towards her gun, though from the corner of my eye it seems almost like a normal bodily movement. "I know you're able to heal, but are you able to defend yourself?"

"Don't worry about me," I say. "Healing someone is just hurting them in reverse."

I put on a smile as I walk towards the office door. The woman inside rises lazily to her feet. I see the way she reaches for something behind her back.

I knock on the door and open it a fraction, grinning widely. "Hi there!" I say, all false pleasantries. "Louise, right? I'm Natasha, it's good to meet you!"

I hold my hand out for her to shake.

She grasps it.

 _Nothing_.

I have a good poker face. An _excellent_ one.

This is almost enough to break it.

She doesn't react to my commands to induce sleep. I crank it up quickly. _Nothing_. I try to reach for her nerves. It's like I'm a child again, fumbling round in the dark.

"Good to meet you," 'Louise' says. Her accent is flawlessly Chicago, just like the woman she's impersonating. She takes her hand back and moves it again to the weapon she has concealed behind her. "Sorry I didn't come out earlier - my son got back home from school and wanted to talk to Mommy before having dinner."

Didn't even know Louise had a kid.

"You know," I say, committing to the lie, "that's quite _something_ considering you were telling me this morning about how you and your husband desperately wanted a son. They really do grow up so fast, huh?"

The dagger nearly takes out my eye.

I throw myself to the side at the last moment, bounce off the doorframe and spin. There's a _boom_ as Amanda shoots the corpse in the head. It's enough to make 'Louise' jump. I grab her arm, twist it backwards and loop it behind her. I try to flood her pain receptors again. Nothing.

"Guess we're doing this the old fashioned way," I say.

One hand is on her wrist. I place my other against her elbow and shove. Her arm _snaps_ with a _crunching_ sound that would make most wince.

She kicks my legs out from underneath me, not even flinching at the pain. I land on my ass, throw myself backwards and roll headfirst into a filing cabinet. I spring up, dazed, close my eyes and twirl into a spinning kick. I feel her jaw connect with my foot, hear the desk collapse under the weight of her hitting it.

My head is spinning. The darkness doesn't make it much better. I listen to the sounds of her breathing. She grunts as she pushes herself up, one handed. I dodge the first slice that comes towards me. The second catches me off guard, opening up a thin line of fiery _agony_ across my chest.

I stumble backwards, refusing to gasp. There's a grudging respect building for a woman who can fight using a broken arm to her advantage.

Not enough for me to give her an easy out.

She snarls as she comes towards me. I lash out, twin jumping kicks connecting with her shin and her chest. She drops against the floor with an almighty _thud_.

"Stop right there, or so help me god I will paint the floor with your grey matter."

I open my eyes, stumble backwards at the sudden clarity and find Amanda stood over the assassin, gun held between them.

I can already identify at least three ways she'll be disarmed and shot before she has a chance to react.

So I act first.

I dive at the downed woman, stopping only to stomp my foot into her chest. I _feel_ her ribs break beneath me. She grits her teeth, hissing against the pain.

My hands grab her chin. I pry open her mouth, growling as she tries to bat me away with her working hand. My chest feels like it's _literally_ on fire. Sweat is beading on my temples.

I get the woman's mouth open and with one quick motion, dislocate her jaw in a movement that create a sound so _horrible_ that I feel my own jaw spasm in sympathy pains.

The woman screams, flailing against me. I grab a handful of her hair and with one quick, brutal strike against the ground, knock her unconscious.

"So," Amanda says, looking me up and down with a raised eyebrow. "When's this job you're offering start?"


	13. Chapter 13

"The suspect died of a suspected arsenic poisoning twenty minutes ago."

I leap out of my seat and just about stop myself from grabbing Batman by his costumed shoulders and slamming him up against the wall.

" _What_?" I have to look up at him to glare, but that doesn't stop me from doing so. Amanda Waller, silent fortress of doom that she is, just turns in her seat to look up at him. She reminds me so very much of my nana that I could believe it if someone told me Nana had come back from the grave and possessed this woman.

"That's _why_ I dislocated her jaw!" I have to stop myself from screaming. It's difficult. " _And_ knocked her out!"

"It would seem that she regained consciousness long enough to activate this." He holds up a clear plastic ziplock bag, in which there's a particularly bloody ring with a small needle.

I have to stop myself from snatching it off him and hitting him over the head with it. "I thought protocol was to strip all suspects of everything on their person."

"Seems to me like someone was a bit too worried about what people would say about them stripping an unconscious woman," Amanda chimes in. "She'd just tried to kill you. I think that would be justification enough were anyone to complain."

"It wasn't _on_ her person," Batman says, placing the evidence into his utility belt. "It was _in_ her person."

The sympathy pains are almost as bad as period cramps.

I glance at Amanda. The woman could be a wall, for all the emotion she shows.

"Well she was certainly well trained," she comments. "I assume that you're able to narrow down a suspect list and will be sharing it with us?"

Batman looks at her. "We have a suspect, yes, but I do not see how you-"

" _I_ am the newly appointed manager of this hospital, Batman. Your costumed theatrics and vendettas do _not_ come before the safety of the staff, patients and bystanders that are promised protection the moment the enter this building."

Batman glances at me, as if he's waiting for me to give my input.

"Ms Waller was meant to have an interview later today, but given the events of this afternoon, I gave her the job effective immediately."

"And I'm glad I listened to my gut and came, rather than dismissing it as the consolation prize it appeared to be. You may not be part of the League, but you are associated with them." Standing, she turns to look at Batman. "And I know that officially the League had no part to play in the events that resulted in the termination of my employment, but I am not an idiot, Batman." She folds her arms and for a moment, I let myself imagine Batman cowering like a child before her. "I know the way you operate. I expect that you'll have a list of suspects on my desk before midnight. If we are to protect people here, we need to know who we must not admit."

She turns to look at me. "I am aware that I may be pushing my luck here, but we haven't yet discussed office space."

She's so much like Serling, yet doesn't have her head buried up her own backside at the same time. It's quite possibly why I actually kinda like her. "All the other offices on this floor are free. Choose whatever one you want."

"Very well," she says, nodding. "I will select one closest to the stairwell. That way, in the event of an incident, I'm able to respond in person sooner." She looks between us both and straightens out her jacket - not that it needs straightening. The thing looks freshly ironed still. "I will give you both some time. Shall we resume our conversation on the hour?"

I glance at the clock. Gives me like forty minutes. "Sure, sounds good. Thank you."

"You can thank me by making sure this place doesn't become the latest party ground for any two-bit mask."

Batman's sigh is impossibly quiet. When she shuts the door behind her, his shoulders appear to droop, just for a moment. "I get the feeling she doesn't like me."

"She's like a grizzly bear. I don't think she likes anyone." I shrug. "What about you? Do you need an energy boost?"

" _No_ ," he growls, with enough fervour that I actually take a step backwards. "Thank you, but no," he amends, his tone soft. "I can't let myself rely on your abilities altering my body. And what of yourself, Natasha? Why didn't you take down that assassin without a fight?"

"I tried," I mutter. I lean against my desk and perch, folding my arms and pouting. "She _blocked_ me. I don't know how, but my abilities just didn't work on her."

Batman's face is impossible to read. "That is… troubling."

"Understatement."

"Indeed." His jaw moves in that familiar way that means he's thinking unpleasant things.

"Window folds out," I tell him, nodding back towards it. It's dark enough outside now that hopefully people aren't looking too closely. "The wall around it is fake, it pulls back."

Batman actually smiles at me. "I'm aware. I did, after all, fund a large portion of this building being built."

"Smartass," I say, snorting. "Don't push yourself too hard. If these are Leaguers, you'll need backup sooner than you think."

"I'll be able to handle it."

I want to believe it. As he moves to the window and pulls the walls around it to the side, revealing more glass that opens like a door, I remind myself of all the times I've had to patch him up when he's ignored the advice of those who actually care about him.

Like his namesake, he disappears into the night. I shut everything behind him and take a deep breath as I shut the window.

It's subtle, but there's the sounds of someone else in my office.

I spin, grabbing a pen from my desk.

I find myself staring at the severe, frowning face of Ra's Al Ghul.

"Uncle Ra's?" I drop the pen in shock. He moves towards me, arms outstretched. I laugh as I hug him. Every inch of his skin is covered, which has to be something that his daughters planned. They never like me talking to their dad, let alone using my powers on him. Too worried that I'll do something that'll harm their whole 'Daughter of the Demon' thing.

The only thing I would do would be find out how he manages to appear in places without so much as a warning. It _has_ to be some sort of organ that lets him teleport.

"Natasha," he says, smiling as he places his hands on my shoulders. "It is good to see you." He moves past me to look out of the window. He clasps his hands behind his back. "I see that you have already encountered some of our enemies."

" _Please_ tell me this isn't another argument you and Talia have had?" I fall into my guest chair and groan. "Because whatever is going on, that assassin was able to block my powers."

"Yes," Uncle Ra's says. When he turns his frown has gotten deeper, more pensive. He slides up a sleeve of his emerald robes to display the barely-healed wound beneath. I gasp and lean forwards. It looks like it was made by a League blade - there's a subtle tearing along the edges of the wound that only the _really_ well trained assassins use.

"It would appear that my enemies have found what they were looking for," Uncle Ra's says. He takes a seat in my chair and steeples his fingers together. "The League's concerns are none of yours, rest assured, Natasha. I am not here to involve you in them."

"Then why are you here?"

"To warn you," he says, rolling back down his sleeve, drawing my attention back to his injury. "I have aligned myself temporarily with a group. They are short-sighted, but they are a necessary step in my plans. My enemies have found the existence of another Lazarus Pit. One which acts as a counter to ours."

"And that's why my powers didn't work on that woman," I say.

"Indeed," Uncle Ra's says, nodding. "However, this new pit comes with a price. Whenever it is used, it draws strength from ours. Should our pit cease, its effects will cease too."

I take off my glasses and look at him. He's a miasma of broken bones and old wounds that have been stitched together in a mockery of a person. "If they win, I'll lose my powers?"

"In a sense," he says. "These people I work with, they have a plan. In two weeks they shall attack the world, using Venom-addled plants controlled by one Poison Ivy. For my plans to succeed, this attack must _not_ happen. I need you to find this Poison Ivy and neutralise her."

I _had_ wanted to speak with Poison Ivy at some point, but this feels like it's a gift with strings attached.

"Uncle, I don't mean to sound rude, but why send me? You have people better suited for this plan."

"Indeed I do." I see the way his facial muscles constrict into a smile. "But they do not have as much of an investment as you do."

"Uncle," I say, sighing. "I know I was born in the Pit. That's how I got my powers. Honestly, if I lost them, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

He laughs. I've only ever heard that laughter when his enemies are trapped, playing into his plans. It's the laughter of a man that holds all the cards.

It's _terrifying_ to sit on the other side of it.

"Dear child, you weren't just born in the Pit. The reason why your mother birthed you there was simple - you were stillborn."

My mouth drops open. " _What_? They never told me that. No one ever mentioned -"

"They were sworn to secrecy," Uncle Ra's says. "When your mother was pregnant with you, I was attacked. She leapt in to defend me. In the fight, she took a blow to the abdomen. She was stabbed. You were killed _in utero_ , Natasha.

"So if my plans fall apart, you won't just lose your powers. You will _die_."


	14. Chapter 14

A brief conversation with my parents just to confirm everything found me in the middle of some bullshit _forest_ in a _warehouse_.

Mom had been upset I'd found out the truth. Then she'd been even more upset that I wasn't angry about any of it. Confused, sure. Worried? A little. Hard not to be with the looming threat of my own mortality, with there being very little I can personally do about it.

They didn't know who was behind it, either. They'd only known it was actually happening for sure when Uncle Ra's was attacked, and even though he'd healed his arm, the injury was back again two days later.

So now I'm in an abandoned warehouse that's filled with all sorts of sunflowers, other sorts of flowers in a rainbow of colour, some tree-like things, vines, as well as whole swarms of bees pollinating flowers, some frogs in the little creek that's running on the east side…

And of _course_ , it has _mosquitoes_.

I have to stop myself from slapping them and killing them. Don't know what Poison Ivy's philosophy on those is. Everyone knows she's likely to go on a killing spree if someone steps on a flower - it's why daisy chains aren't really a thing in Gotham. Or America, really.

Can't alter my body to scare them away, unfortunately. The best I can do is heal the welts as quickly as they appear. On the plus side, I'm not itchy.

The downside is that I'm a veritable buffet for the damn things.

I glance over the top of my glasses and find that the warehouse is a blur of confusion. I work best with humans. Mammals are confusing, but doable. Non-mammal animals are like wading through the fog.

Plants? I can see them, but they appear dim, as if my powers are registering them but pointedly telling me I can't do anything with them.

It's why when she almost snakes her way through the undergrowth, watching me, following, I'm not surprised.

Still, best not to reveal that just yet.

"Ivy?" I call into the warehouse, making the show of spinning around like a lost, hopeless civilian. I know she's behind me, watching. I've gone out of my way not to disturb any of the plants she has laying around. She has a pathway through the forest, which means that she entertains at least one human visitor. It's easy enough to stick to it, though I make certain I step over the weeds.

"I've come to talk," I say. I stop walking, glance over at her for a second, and then continue looking around, still pretending I'm not sure where she is. Her body is a complete confusion to my senses - though she registers as human, I can't quite see everything. There's voids in her body that must be plant matter. "I want to grow crops," I shout, "but I have no idea about what to do. I want to make sure I'm doing it right and not… and not endangering the plants I'm growing."

Are plants even sentient? Ivy claims she can talk to them, but that doesn't mean they talk back. Plus, _she crazy_.

But if they are sentient, then that's going to fuck up a lot of vegetarians and vegans. 'Congratulations, you're no better than the rest of us!'

And I'm clearly nervous, because otherwise my brain would be at least on track.

Thankfully it's at that moment that Poison Ivy appears. The giant fern leaves behind me begin to part like she's Moses walking through the Red Sea and she strides towards me, red hair cascading over her shoulders and hiding her breasts. Whatever she's wearing appears to be some form of latex, like every other super powered being in Gotham - except for me, because I do _not_ have the time or energy for that - though a glance around my glasses reveals that whatever it is, it registers as something plant-based.

"You are the healer," she says, She holds out a hand and forces me to watch as she causes a seed to blossom into a dandelion, which she blows into her warehouse.

Neat trick, but I have _literally_ regrown someone's lungs before.

"Why are you truly here?" she asks. "I do not believe your excuses of agriculture, though the novelty of them, and the fact you have not harmed any of my brethren since entering this domain have stayed my hand from killing you. So far."

Well you get one shot, Flower Power. If you don't do it right, I'll kill you and then eat your precious plants to give me the energy to heal myself.

Instead, diplomatically, I press a smile onto my face and say, "Honestly? I have always wanted to try and grow my own garden. I grew up somewhere that we had to grow all our own crops and rear our own animals. Back then I was blind, so I could only really help with killing the livestock. Helped me explore what my powers could do and eventually I learned how to cause almost-instant, painless death for them."

Ivy appears unbothered. She seems even less concerned by the bee that lands on her head and begins to crawl over her hair, dancing around the daisies she has woven into her braided crown. At this rate, it wouldn't surprise me if she lifted her arm and a spider crawled out from her armpit.

"But I'm also here to ask something of you," I say. "Your plans with the so called _Injustice League_." At the way her eyes narrow, and the movement of the tendrils of her namesake along the walls of the warehouse, I know I'm reaching the point of 'any wrong word will hurt you'. "I know that you are obviously far more of an expert on this matter than I am, but I still have to ask. Is attacking the world with Kobra-enhanced plants really the way to make people believe your top priority is the welfare of the plants?"

And that's when she attacks.

I drop under the slashing vine and roll backwards as more erupt out of the ground and grasp at where I was like hungry tentacles. The foliage shakes as she thrusts an arm forwards and fucking _blackberries_ start flinging themselves off the bushes at me.

I leap into a backspring and push myself far back enough that the blackberries all _smoosh_ against the ground.

"I'm just asking because I don't know any better," I say quickly. I throw myself out of the pollen cloud that descends. I somersault forwards, landing at Poison Ivy's feet.

So I flip up, snatch her by the wrist and make her body pump as much oxytocin as it can. It's difficult, with the symbiotic plant matter in her body. I don't know if I'm doing too much or too little. It's hard to concentrate on dosing her properly when I'm also altering my own biochemistry not to uptake the poisonous amino acids she's seeping from her skin.

The way she relents her attack could just be because I'm not attacking her, or it could be because it's working. I know Uncle's League has been using oxytocin for decades to induce suggestibility. It works - _sometimes_.

I drop Ivy's wrist in a false show of peace and hope this is one of those times.

"I'm just looking at it from my point of view," I say quickly. "If I pumped people full of Kobra to then heal them, it wouldn't exactly look like I was looking out for their best interests."

"Sometimes sacrifices have to be made," Ivy hisses. "The people will know the power of that they have abused, for all this time! Only when they fear nature will they learn to properly live with it, like fire!"

Oh yeah, she's full on cray-cray. Don't care how many PhD's or whatever else she had before she started sniffing chlorophyll, I think the introduction of new cells and a whole combination of different chromosome counts has addled her brain.

"Out of curiosity, how many chromosomes do the plant cells in you have?"

She blinks at me, letting down her hand slowly. "I… what do you mean?" she asks guardedly.

"Well I can heal," I state, obviously. "I can't quite see levels of DNA and all of that, but I can get a general idea of how it's functioning. I think plants confuse me so much because they vary so much - I mean like, spinach has what, twelve, and adders-tongue can have something like twelve hundred and sixty."

That certainly catches her off guard. She cradles her wrist in her other hand, not to rub away any pain, but as some sort of defensive, self-reassuring gesture. "You're aware of plant genomics?"

"Somewhat," I say, shrugging. "I wanted to understand why I couldn't heal them like I could people. Believe me, it was _hard_ getting copies of those papers in braille. I read a few of yours here and there, the medical side of toxicology you were studying really helped with some things."

A look in her eyes, like a flash of pain. She turns her head away from me slightly. "That was a lifetime ago," she says. "I am part of something more now, something _greater_. That woman who I was… she no longer exists."

Yeah, not going to do the whole _'_ _she's inside you, right here'_ shpiel.

"If that's what you say is true," I say. "You know yourself better than you know anyone. Like I said, I'm here because I don't think this whole 'attack the world with plants' is the right idea. Trust me, as someone that's had to deal with people not understanding a lot of what I do, sometimes the best way to get people to understand you is to teach them, but do it in a way that they can use what you've taught them. Fear only teaches them to rally against you, and to use what you care about against you."

I can tell by the way the large ferns are clustering together that she's uncertain. "They call me crazy," she says. "I have… I have done so much to them, all to protect my brethren from them. They will not accept me as a link between the worlds. Why should I bother? If they only know force, let me enact that force upon them and _make_ them learn!"

"Ivy," I say, slowly. I'd already spoken with Bruce before doing this and got a couple of pointers with how to deal with her. Play up to her intelligence, don't make her think of her old human self as being who she is now. Use her own self-grandeur against her. "If this was your idea, if this was the only solution that you thought was the right course of action, then I'm not going to try and convince you otherwise. But if this was an idea-" _Don't say planted, don't say planted_ , " _placed_ in your mind by another person, don't you think you owe it to your charges to make sure what you're doing is for their betterment?"

"I…" She takes a deep breath. Closes her eyes. I'm ready for a fight, right up until the moment I see the foliage begin to draw back and the roots that she tried to attack me with recede into the ground. "I suppose there is some merit in what you are saying."

"People like us?" I gesture between us. "We should look out for each other. Think about it, Ivy. You're able to heal plants. I can do the same for living creatures. We should be working together, not against each other. I'm not saying we could create a perfect little paradise, but we could at least make an self-sustainable ecosystem of our own."

"We would disagree," she says, suddenly sad. "All those I grow close with eventually turn against me."

"I, uh, no thanks?" I say, incredibly awkwardly. All my bluster vanishes under the very rapid cloud of confusion and apprehension. "I mean, no offence to you or anything, but I'm really not into anyone."

"I'm aware," she says, with a smile. "I have spent a long time manipulating and seducing others. I am fully aware of when one might be interested and open to manipulation, and when it would be a wasted effort."

" _Right_ ," I say. "So, about that plan of yours?"

"It was not mine, not initially," she confesses. "You have given me much to think on. I wish to return to my solace. Please leave. Should I think you are right, I will visit you in due time to discuss how we could use our abilities together, commensally."

I'm smiling, though I know that there's an unspoken 'but'. "And if you decide to go through with the Injustice League's plan?"

"Then I will make sure to remove you first, to ensure you cannot heal any who need to learn."

Sometimes, I _really_ understand why Uncle Ra's and my parents just kill people, instead of waiting on their morality and common sense.


	15. Chapter 15

"And this is why people say it's never a good idea to date a supervillain."

The guy on the gurney has almost every bone in his body broken. It's amazing that he's even still alive, but somehow baseline humans just seem to be that little bit more resilient than you'd think.

His buddy got fed to a cement mixer. He wasn't so lucky.

I glance over at the trainee doctor who spoke. He's young, fresh out of college really, and probably abused some connections to get here.

I grab him by his sleeve and drag him towards the gurney, through the corridor that's already filled with spectators and staff. The emergency ward isn't quite full yet, but this one was someone that needed my attention, and it seems that whenever I'm about to work, medical experts crawl out of the walls to try and rationalise what I'm doing.

"Well, seeing as you're such an _expert_ on who did this, that obviously means you know exactly how they did it too." I grab his hand, place it on the somehow-still breathing person - though I've already made sure to knock him out and flood his body with pain relief. "So come on then, hurry up." I glance at his name tag. Sullivan - makes sense that he's here then. The Falcones must be short on intelligent stock if they're looking to their dummy organisations for patsies. "So come on, tell me who did this, tell me how, and do it whilst you're healing them."

He stutters, glancing around for a friend.

"You don't have friends here, Sullivan," I tell him. "I don't care if you're nobody, if you come from criminals or if you're a former hero. When you're in this hospital and wearing those scrubs, you act like the medical _professional_ you're supposed to be. Which means treating people _without_ judging them."

"I, uh, yes ma'am," he says quickly, looking at the floor.

"You still didn't answer my demand."

He glances back at the unconscious man. "I, um, I guess it might have been-"

" _Might_ have been?" There's a murmur in the crowd of junior doctors. I can see a couple of the older ones tutting and shaking their heads. "If you're going to comment about something, firstly, make sure that you know what you're talking about. Secondly, if you're going to _try_ and be funny about it, make sure that your jokes are about people who aren't those you're _supposed_ to be _helping_. Now. Do you know who did this to him?"

Sullivan removes his hand from the body and tries to shuffle back into the crowd. "No," he admits.

"So you were being facetious just to try and get more attention? Well _congratulations_. _I_ can afford to take this time to chew you out because I have powers that let me heal these things. You don't. This is why all of you are here; to learn how to treat people without magic, superpowers or miracles. I'm here as a last-ditch attempt to save lives and _believe_ me, if you act like an asshole, you will be treated like one. Now, class-clown," I click my fingers and point for him to stay standing on the spot. "After this is done, you're going to report to the facilities manager. For the next two weeks you're going to be helping the cleaners scrub the wards, changing the bins and doing everything you wrongly think you're better than."

Red rises in his cheeks. "But I was put here to train as a medical -"

I click my fingers in his face, cutting him off. "Tell me right now, do you expect the cleaners to do their jobs?"

"Well of _course_ ," he grunts, "that's what they're paid for, isn't it? At least they're not on the streets begging like the rest of their unskilled cohort."

"Four weeks," I say. "You'll be helping the cleaners for four weeks. You can't expect a service to be done whilst simultaneously demeaning everyone that works in that service." I look from him to the rest of the group. "You'll be working alongside nurses, janitors, cooks, electricians and more. Just because you can quote a medical textbook doesn't mean you're better than someone who provides a person with the humanity they deserve. If you have a problem treating people like people, then do everyone a favour and leave now."

Unsurprisingly, no one gets up to move. _Honestly_. It reminds me of when I first started helping hospitals, where all the trained medical doctors would spout rhetoric about how they were better than me because they had trained for it, whilst I was just born with an ability. Shockingly enough, the same doctors were the ones who would ignore patients who didn't have health insurance, or generally wouldn't have the money to pay for the better treatments.

Maybe my opinion is biased, but fuck the lot of the self-entitled assholes.

"Healers work _for_ people," I tell them. "Now let's be honest, we're also in one of the professions likely to be held hostage by villains. If you're an asshole to your colleagues, then they may decide that the way you've treated them like shit isn't enough to warrant them saving your life."

I turn to Sullivan and gesture for him to return back to the crowd. "If your attitude doesn't improve after the next four weeks, I won't just kick you out of my hospital. I'll be meeting personally with your big, big boss and telling him _exactly_ how incompetent you are. The same goes for everyone here," I say, glaring at them. "I don't care what strings you pulled to get here, or who you know. I am more than happy to sit down with crime lords, thugs, teachers and spandex-wearing vigilantes and tell them exactly why you're not fit to work here. It's your desire to heal people, not your connections that help you here.

"Now!" I say, spinning around and grabbing the unconscious man by his exposed ankle. "Let's see about healing you."

I touch his skin and the network of nerve clusters appear in my understanding. I'm able to follow the pathways, dull the senses and let him have his bones reset and grown again in peace.

His legs are the worst - shattered in at least three places along each of his femurs alone. His kneecaps have had what appears to be a meat tenderiser taken to them, and that's before I even get to the way his feet have been broken so badly it was impossible to take off his shoes.

It's only when I take a passing glance at his blood to make sure the hormones are doing their job that something off makes itself known. He has everything he should, yet there's something _else_ in there, smaller than the rest, almost _hexagonal_ in shape. They're all following the same pathway. No matter where I look, they're all aiming towards his chest.

They're dull to my senses, not responding to my commands. It reminds me of when I tried to heal Artemis from Klarion's magic.

His body is diverting energy towards his chest. Metabolic processes are being shut off in his extremities. It's like his body is artificially collecting energy for an unknown purpose, bundling it all up in a swirling mass of -  
 _  
Oh shit._

"Everyone get-!"

The explosion happens almost in slow motion. I see the man's chest cavity expand. Dark, purple fire erupts outwards, staining the ceiling above him with soot.

The body separates. Bits of viscera paint the walls.

The fire expands, at its centre a nexus of black evil.

Then everything else happens all at once. I'm thrown backwards with a force that sends me knocking into people and sending them flying like bowling pins. The hospital's fire alarms go off in an instant. Sprinklers in the ceilings being dousing us with water. They only feed the flames.

I groan as I get to my feet, shaking. My glasses have fallen off at some point. I crawl over the mass of bodies - all still breathing, though some are more damaged than most - and push myself to my feet, swaying unsteadily.

"Everyone get out!" Amanda's voice. She sounds far away. I don't know how she got here so quickly. Maybe the blast stunned me and made me lose time.

I glance at her, see the way her heart is racing in her chest. Her lungs inflate and deflate rapidly. She has her arms placed together, pointing something at me.

"Cleric, get out of the _fucking way_!"  
 _  
Behind me._

I spin around, gasping. There's no one there. I take a step backwards and trip over a cat that my sends my senses into haywire. It's a constant shapeshifting mass of _wrongness_ that seems ready to explode at any moment.

It's when the cackling starts.

"Everyone clear out!" Amanda's voice again. "That includes you Cleric! Don't make me have to dance around you to shoot this son of a bitch!"

The cackling continues. I get the feeling of a horrible _cold_ that expands from within my arms and crawls towards my chest. I glance backwards and see that people are running, always looking back in my direction, their bodies flooding them with adrenaline.

I glance forwards and still can't see anything. There's a void where the person before me should be. I can see people through the walls behind them, hiding under desks, evacuating, on the phone to someone that can help.

I drop into a guarded position and try to clear my mind. There's only one thing in this world that I know of that ticks all the boxes of what I'm presented with right now.

"Klarion," I growl, looking towards the sound of the maniacal laughter.

He stops laughing. I watch the void move, almost like a nightmarish floater in my eye. His body stretches over my vision like a shadow moving across the walls.

"Well, well, well, _you're_ the famous healer," he says. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I don't have a danger sense, and yet I can hear it screaming for me to _get the fuck away_. "You're taller than I thought you'd be."

"And you're significantly less frightening than you think you are."

I can feel the way the air changes. People around me shriek. The void moves, suddenly in front of me. There's a _roaring_ sound. A smell like rotting meat. Humid, wet breath ghosts over my face, down my neck.

Gunshots.

The sound of them rings in my ears. It's impossible to hear for a moment. I slam my hands over my ears, and hiss as I try to focus. The ground feels like it's moving underneath my feet. I stumble forwards blindly, reaching out for the wall. I touch the remains of the John Doe that Klarion exploded out of.

The biological material is enough for me to work with, like luminous moss in a dark cave. I have to move quickly, before the sprinklers wash it away.

"Get out of here!" I scream back to Amanda. I know she fired the shots. I can see two little holes in the middle of the void's head. It's looking at her, and I can see the way it's twisting. Its hands are getting longer. They're turning into _claws_. I feel the heat washing off of it, blink at the flames that seem to be growing from its back, despite the sprinklers raining down on us. It stretches up and _howls_.

"Protect the-!"

The wind is knocked out of me. The creature sends me flying with a casual backhand. A wall greets my back with all the comfort concrete can provide.

I force myself to my feet, my head spinning. Amanda is suddenly in front of me. No, I got sent flying behind her. The monster is looming forwards. His footsteps _thud_ on the ground. It's like a demonic Solomon Grundy out to consume our souls.

"Go!" I say, slashing an arm. "There's patients and staff that need helping. They're your priority!"  
 _ **  
"Yes, run,"**_ cackles Klarion. He stomps towards me. I feel the structure around us groan. _"_ _ **Flee now! Live what little life you have left in fear!"**_

"Some _Lord of Chaos_ you are," I growl. My bones ache. My teeth hurt. My brain is throbbing. I can see every injury that I've got. I force my body into action, setting it to heal what it can, as quickly as it can. Doesn't matter if I burn up too much energy. I'd rather be starving than dead.

"Attacking a place where the dying and injured come to be healed?" I sneer at the giant void. "What, is this the magical alternative to overcompensating?"

He rears backwards. This time I'm ready. I throw myself under his arm, roll beneath his swing. He roars. I leap forwards, landing in a somersault that has no grace. Tumbling, I spring out and land flat against the wall, breathless. The heat of the still-burning flames is a paradox against the icy cold of the spluttering sprinklers.

They'll go out soon. They're not designed to work with this sort of fire. I can already feel it crawling through the walls, consuming the stockroom adjacent.

Behind me, Klarion is still chuckling. _"_ _ **Three blind mice,"**_ he sings. His voice is distorted, horrifying. It sounds like knives being scraped together through a microphone. Each droplet of water from above seems to carry it. My skin feels cold, wet and now slimy at the sound of his voice. _"_ _ **Well just one, but she'll soon be dead."**_

I snatch the fire extinguisher from the wall and point it at him. I don't waste time with one-liners. Instead, screaming, I activate it and cover him in a flurry of foam.  
 _ **  
"And what was the point of that?"**_ His voice is something not even my nightmares could have dreamt up.

The fire extinguisher sputters, exhausted. I chuck it to the side and grin.

I can see him now, all seven foot of his nightmarish proportions. Horns just out of his head and his cheeks. His arms are each as wide as my legs are long, decorated with thick spikes. What appear to be eyes run down his face, his neck and his chest in parallel lines of horror.

"If you're going to go full Eldritch Nightmare, you could at least remember leg day."

He throws his head back and cackles. _"_ _ **So the blind mouse learnt how to see."**_

"Biological protein based fire retardant," I tell him.  
 _ **  
"And what is that supposed to do?"**_

I grin. "Stall you."  
 _  
"Nrub eht citoahc secrof!"_

The fires swirl and throw themselves at Klarion. I leap backwards as he snarls, falling, and find myself caught by a pair of gauntleted, stable hands.

Batman places me to one side. His expression is grave. Zatara is by his side, his blood pumping. I can see something eating away at his cells, as if fuelling this magic is consuming his very life force.

"Cleric," Batman says. He presses something on his arm and to my surprise, he holds out something for me. I grab what he's offering, trying to tune out the way Klarion is screaming. There's a sound like a wall collapsing. I hope that whoever's in that room evacuated first.

My fingers wrap around the arm of a pair of glasses. "Really?" I ask, staggering back as the world blossoms back into reality. My hospital is in ruins. The lights are flickering, if they're even still functioning. The walls look like Swiss cheese.

Klarion gets back to his feet, covered in unholy purple flames.

With the way his veins are exposed right now, pumping a thick green liquid, I'm almost regretting putting on the glasses.

Batman grabs me before I can move. "I brought you those because I knew you wouldn't be able to see him otherwise."

Zatara moves forwards, between us and Klarion. A flick of his hands and the radiator on the wall unravels with a metallic screech. It unwinds, turns into a sentient snake made of cutting metal and leaps for Klarion, wrapping around his legs.

"I kinda found a way," I say. The flames burn through the protein foam I coated him in. Annoying, but if I can keep my glasses on it shouldn't be a problem.

"Not him," Batman says.

A brilliantly bright, golden ankh appears in the middle of the corridor. I hiss and throw my hand over my eyes. I hear a guttural growl from Klarion, as well as an otherworldly hiss from his cat, echoing from somewhere behind me.

A figure steps out of the golden portal, clad in gold and blue. Their golden cape billows behind them. The helmet on their head obscures their face, but the eyes are unnatural, an endless void of white.

 _"_ _ **You!"**_ Klarion snarls, pointing a finger. _"_ _ **You're not supposed to be here! You're ruining my plans!"**_

"We found a new host," Zatara says. "One who was more than happy to wear the helm in exchange for taking you down, Klarion!"

The nightmarish creature shrinks before my very eyes. He returns to being a skinny twig of a person, clad in a pinstripe suit, with his jet black hair styled up in a way that reminds me of his horns.

"You heroes _never_ play fair!" he declares. He jumps backwards, into a sudden portal that appears on the wall behind him. It shuts with a sound like a _pop_ , leaving nothing but a slight breeze in his wake.

"That was far easier than I expected," Batman growls. "Batman to League," he says, turning to talk into his gauntlet. "Klarion has vanished into a portal. Check to ensure this wasn't just a distraction."

"I agree," Zatara says. The new Lord of Order touches down beside him, cape still fluttering on a non-existent breeze. "This was far too easy, as if-"

A cat hisses.

I gasp, spin around.

And find myself staring into a pair of nightmarish red eyes.

Four individual needles of pain _burn_ their way through my chest. I gasp, making barely a squeak as I feel my nerves go into overdrive.

"Tsk, tsk," Klarion says, smiling at me, displaying rows of rotting, yellow teeth. "You didn't think it'd be that easy, _did_ you?"

He lifts me up, slams me against the wall behind. I hear my name being shouted. My hands wrap over his arm. His hand is buried into my chest, up to his wrist. I feel my own blood on my hands. He moves a finger. _Agony_ erupts through me.

I take a deep breath and cut off all nerve impulses below my shoulders. I'm left numb from the neck down, yet aware there's still a hand rearranging my insides.

"Nothing more from any of you!" Klarion declares. He waves a hand. All three of the heroes are thrown backwards, sucked into a black hole that screams with the voices of a thousand people. A _snap_ of his fingers and the void closes, leaving us alone once more.

"They'll be back," he tells me, his smile widening. "That pesky Nabu _always_ finds a way back to spoil my fun, but this time he'll be too late."

He moves his hand. I go through the motions of making the proper pained moaning sounds. I'm trying to get my body to heal what it can, whilst it can. I'm shutting off blood flow to my extremities, cutting off what I can restart later.

I can't feel the pain anymore, but my powers let me see the damage he's causing. Every movement of his nails cuts through more soft tissue. My liver is pierced. My intestines are open, spasming.

" _Ooh_ , trying to heal yourself, are we?" Klarion cackles. "Well, I have just the thing for that." He flicks his wrist. A _firehose_ appears in his hand, the hose coiled around his body, emerging from a shadowy hole in the ground.

"Now, I heard they found an antithesis to your powers." He runs a finger along the bottom of the hosepipe. A single drop of water plops out onto his finger. "Now, I wonder. What would happen if I…"

He presses his finger to my open chest.

My powers unravel in an instant.

The agony returns.

I suck in a deep, pained breath. My gasps are shallow, through gritted teeth. I can taste blood, smell it as it pools in my nose. My nerves are on fire.

Nothing I haven't been through before. The League had its own ways of testing how much I could heal.

Doesn't mean it doesn't _fucking hurt_.

My hands tighten around his arm. He cackles.

"Oh, hurts, does it?" He presses the hosepipe to my mouth. His smile is an evil thing. "Now, let's see how well you cope with drowning."

Water rushes out of the pipe, smacking me in the face. Dazed, my head hits the wall again. I can't do anything to stop him opening my mouth and forcing the water down it. I gag. It does nothing. Water rushes down my throat, filling my lungs.

It _hurts_.

I can't scream. My lungs are filled with water. My vision is blurring. Everything is becoming dull, dark.

I can't breathe.

I can't heal it.

I'm going to _drown_.

I can't heal drowning.

I need to think of a way out!

I need-

I need _gills_.

I can't alter myself like _that!_

I suck in a breath through my nose by habit and choke on the water rushing down my throat. My legs are spasming. I picture Kaldur, remember the way his body combined the two circulatory systems.

Gills still require lungs, at some stage.

The Lazarus water blocks my healing. At the same time, I feel something different about it. My powers are reacting, bubbling beneath the surface, demanding to be used.

I open the floodgates and change myself from the inside out. I turn my lungs into part of my digestive system. Gills grow down my back, away from Klarion's view. I kill off damaged cells, replace them with new ones.

My body consumes my appendix for energy. I fuse my liver to my intestines, force them to perform each other's roles. I grow alveoli down my arms, attaching them to the veins and arteries.

"Oh, are you dead already?" Klarion mutters, shaking my body. "That's boring."

My eyes have closed at some stage. I feel the smile growing. Grunting, I force my hands slowly to my mouth. He cackles at my resistance, allows me to try and struggle for my life.

His mistake.

I force all my adrenal glands into production at once. I rip the hosepipe free and direct it at him. The sudden deluge of water catches him off guard.

Bolstered by the adrenaline, I have enough strength to grab him by the collar and _fling_ him down the corridor.

I press a hand to my chest as I slide down the wall. I use the other to help myself get back up. As i stand I'm directing my body into action. It uses one of my lungs as energy, consuming it to repair the damage. I can regrow it later. I move bodily functions back to normal as my tissues knit themselves back together.

"You can't do that!" Klarion wails, actually stomping his foot. "That's not _fair_!"

I turn away from him, to look at his cat that watches us, even now. It hisses at me as I approach it.

A quick movement and I brush my fingers against its fur. I stun it, forcing complacency into it.

"No, no, no," Klarion seethes. He takes a step forwards. I hold out a hand between us, grasping the other around his cat's neck. "You wouldn't! Harm a defenceless little _kitty_?" His expression darkens. "I'll slit your throat before you can ever think of breaking his neck."

The cat purrs in my touch. It's easy to manipulate now, to make it think I'm an ally, that it's safe.

Were it not for him trying to kill me with them, I'd never have thought of doing such a thing. Within me now are two forms of Lazarus. The dual waters of Lazarus are a paradox, yet somehow they're in equilibrium. Being born in one gave me the powers of life.

Nearly dying in one has given me the additional power of death.

It takes the barest of nudges to stop the cat's heart.

"What? _No_!" Klarion's hands go into his hair. He leaps forwards. His legs turn to dust. He screams, twisting as his body disintegrates before my eyes. "You _monster_!" he wails. "You heathen! Just you wait, when I get back here I'll make you suffer! I'll go to hell itself and make them truly know how to torture you!"

I toss the body of his cat at him. His ghostly hands cradle it. He sobs as his cat begins to vanish with him.

"Fuck you, and take your mangy-ass cat with you."

"I _will_ be back!" he declares, his tone dark, reverberating through the very walls themselves. "I don't care where it is. If you're dead, I'll bring you back to life just to kill you again every day!"

My smile is smug as he disappears.

It's only when the last shadow of his twisted, nightmarish face vanishes that I allow myself to collapse.

My body is spent, running on almost nothing. I can feel my cells dying through a lack of energy. My stomach visible shrinks before my eyes as my body consumes more of itself to survive.

I grunt as a golden light blossoms from the ceiling above me. My vision is blurring as three figures drop out of it.

I hear my name being called. Feel something being pressed to my mouth. I open, chewing the energy bar.

"Coma," I manage to whisper. "High energy. Increase all doses tenfold."

Batman says something to me. I grunt in an attempt of understanding.

I slip into unconsciousness and for the first time in my life, I sleep.


End file.
